The Diary of Frank An
[I originally wrote or at least started writing this a bit before Trump was elected. Although I was still a type of leftist, I had crappier info sources and weirder friends and believed unpopular things which I mostly don't now. Furthermore, even at the time I wrote this, I hated it. It was a weird brainworm that combined kinks I hate with politics I hate and wouldn't leave me the fuck alone until I showed people what the hell was going wrong with me. Please consider this more of a trauma project than anything I'd ever be proud of, even though the only crying I ever did about it was the fact I needed to write it for some reason. I'm posting it here now because Pastebin doesn't let you link to pastes that say "fuck" anymore.]
March 23, 2018
I'm starting this diary to gather my thoughts. I've been watching things spin out of control for a while now, and I can barely react to it anymore. I need to put down everything in words so I can understand how I got to this point.
So, here we are. My grandfather Cheng pulled every string he had to get his family to America, away from the looming oppression of the Chinese government, and now America is like this.
My father, like most second-gen Asian immigrants, grew up to be very conservative. It wasn't without benefit; his fetishization of small business owners drove him to become a rather successful one himself, so we're pretty well off. But there's so many other ways that he started judging people, so many kinds of people he refused to help or to even admit could be helped. When politics started turning really sour, he even bought some kind of assault rifle and started ranting about how he'd have to take his example from that "roof Korean." Finally, when he told me he voted for Trump, I had to stop talking to him. It was senseless to me that he could turn his back on fellow immigrants like that, just because they're in circumstances that make it difficult to navigate this nation's bloated and racist immigration laws.
Now it's 2018 and everything is even worse than my friends at the Racial Cooperation Coalition predicted. Trump is using his executive power to do insane things and destroy our civil rights. The only thing is that it isn't happening quite the way we thought. That ridiculous wall project got hung up in committees, along with a few other of Trump's initial plans. It seemed at first like we were really #Resisting! Then things got weird.
We didn't hear much out of the White House for a few weeks in the summer of last year. Then there was an explosion of press releases full of shit so crazy it sounded like stuff that Alex Jones wingnut would say. Things about the "deep state," apparently a bunch of people in the CIA or something that were working against Trump. Following some gross sex scandals involving several CEOs and regulators and people like that, there were more press releases about "clamping down on degeneracy" and we all knew this was it. There wasn't a word about race, he didn't seem to be doing anything to Latinos or other POC anymore, but there were all kinds of new regulations about porn and he doubled down on his attacks on LGBTQ+ rights, like the old religious right had just stuffed their hand right up his ass. And all of these things quickly started to actually be enforced, practically without any opposition. The Democratic leadership was just… so quiet. A friend of mine has a theory that it's because all the new regulations and laws were carefully crafted so they didn't actually point at any particular group of people, just several specific "deleterious sexual behaviors." You actually hear more on the news about how it's affecting straight people. Insane stuff like polygamy laws being applied to people who weren't even married, or women who got pregnant out of wedlock losing their health insurance. None of it made any sense, and it makes even less sense now.
I'm getting pretty tired. I think I'll write more tomorrow.
March 24, 2018
Ugh. I barely slept at all. It's so cramped and stuffy in here. I don't know how I'm going to endure this until 2020.
Ha. Look at me pretending there's still going to be an election in two years. I guess when your country shifts this much overnight it takes a while to sink in.
There's no way the United States will even pretend to be a republic by then. That's the whole reason I'm in this situation. The Frog Squads are everywhere. I guess I should explain that, in case this diary is all that's left of me at some point.
The "sexual austerity" measures kept getting worse over the course of last fall. Wherever Trump wanted something done that was obviously illegal, he'd just rant about it on TV for a while, and the next day, thugs in Pepe masks would show up all over the country enforcing his decrees. Most recently, about two months ago, there was a press release where Trump went on for nearly two hours about how many high-level authorities in the deep state had unfaithful wives.
"These people… these jilted lovers, cuckolds, cucks, NTRs, whatever you wanna call 'em… They're low energy, low test. Sad! They're LOSERS, and there's no room for losers anymore in my America!"
What made it a really big deal is that some of the material he released at the same time clearly showed these people were in consensually asymmetric relationships. How could it be his business at all? But all the same, the Frog Squads were out in force the next day, dragging people out of their homes and beating them to death in broad daylight.
So, what's this all got to do with me? I think I'll hash that out tomorrow.
March 27, 2018
Couldn't write the past couple days. Too afraid. There was a Frog Squad active in our neighborhood. I heard the chaos outside almost every hour of the day.
I've been married to Stacy for five years. To stick together that long these days, I'd say we have a pretty good relationship. But she did cheat on me once, about three years ago. She admitted it the next day, bawling her eyes out. It took a while to forgive her, but I couldn't stay mad at her. I love her too much. And it's not like I couldn't understand why it happened. I've always had a lower sex drive than her. After she cheated, we tried lots of different ways to get our desires in synch. Lots of new toys and roleplaying, things like that. I can't really satisfy her most of the time, but she said she was willing to work through it for us.
That seemed to change right after Trump won the election. We were both shattered and crestfallen. We didn't understand how it could've happened. We knew America was racist, intolerant… but not like that. She responded to this by needing more, to release the tension. I responded by needing less, almost none sometimes, because I couldn't get my head out of the world and into our room. Eventually this caused resentment between us. Arguing. The past year has been really rough. But I still love her. And I think she still loves me. Although…
We have a mutual friend. His name is Chad. He's really into bodybuilding, and he has alot of weird political opinions. He's not a bad guy if you know him though, and we've both known him pretty long. I say that he's still a friend, despite what I'm about explain, because… well, it'll make sense.
About a week after Trump's "anti-cuck" speech, Chad accidentally added me to an email conversation between himself and Stacy. This happens pretty frequently, he's terrible with computers. He immediately freaked out and sent another email asking me to delete, and I told him I would, because I respect their privacy. I did, in fact, but I couldn't resist looking at the first one in the chain.
"Chad, I don't know what to do. I think I still love him… I hope I do. But he's just so… weak. Even though we haven't fallen afoul of any of these disgusting 'austerity' measures yet, I keep asking myself what Trump is going to denounce next week. There's no way Frank can defend himself from that 4chan trash. There's got to be something we can do."
I felt a flash of anger reading this, but it quickly subsided; I knew she was right. In the back of my mind I'd always considered myself "too smart" for athletics or violence, and of course we've never dreamed of keeping a gun in the house. If they came for me, what could I do? I deleted the emails and tried to shrug it off.
Over the next few weeks, Chad started hanging out with Stacy more often. When I came home from work one day and they were on the couch, her in tears and wrapped in his arms, I started to suspect something, but I didn't want to say anything and reveal that I'd broken their trust. It all came to a head a week ago, when my suspicions were verified in the worst way possible. I got into an argument with somebody at the office when they said they voted Trump. The next day, pictures of my wife getting fucked by Chad were all over the office. Apparently, "somebody" hacked our external hard drive. Everyone knew now that I was a cuck. My life was in danger.
I raced home, terrified. I tried to say something to Stacy, but words wouldn't come. I stumbled to the couch and buried my face in my hands. I broke down sobbing. She asked me what was wrong. I barely managed to croak out, "the… the pictures…"
She gasped, started shaking, started crying herself. She sat in the chair across the living room and got her phone out.
"Hi. It's Stacy. We need to do something right away. The pictures leaked."
Some amount of time later, I couldn't tell, Chad was there. I don't actually remember seeing when he walked in, but I do remember a red haze. I know I punched him square in the jaw, and that he didn't even flinch. He caught my hands before I could take another swing and forced me to sit down. He knelt down on the floor in front of me, his eyes still level with mine, and he spoke slowly.
"I deserved that and I know it. Listen. I'm sorry about this. But I can make it up to you. I'm not going to let those thugs hurt you."
The next day, I was here. Hiding in Chad's attic. A couple days later I started this diary.
March 30, 2018
Life here is pretty surreal. I don't get to talk to anyone except Chad or occasionally Stacy, I'm never actually sure when I'll get my next meal because I have to rely on their schedules, and I can't have any kind of online presence whatsoever for fear that the Frog Squads find out I'm not already dead. That's how he handled it when they came looking for me at his place. It still sends shivers down my spine thinking of how natural the words sounded coming from him. "Huh? Nah, brah, I took care of that low test little queef personally. Don't worry about him. You want some Natty Lights for the road?"
The Frog Squad hung around for a few minutes and talked random bullshit with Chad before leaving with a "praise Kek!" I was struggling the whole time to keep silent. If nothing else, I'm glad they haven't been back since.
Of course, we couldn't report my death to the authorities. Despite everything, there was still a chance Chad would be investigated for murder in that case, and then they'd find me. As a result, I've had to sit and wait all this time, going over my mail as Stacy brings it to me. The bills and my rent are due soon, and I have no way to pay them without revealing myself. I've already got a message from my job saying if I don't explain my absence soon, I won't need to. I feel like my life itself is just leaving me behind, like it never needed me.
At least I still have Stacy, sort of. Obviously things between us have been awkward ever since the leak, but she's been up here to visit me a few times, and we've had a few good cries about it. I think if this ever blows over, we'll really be able to put things back together. She's sorry for what she did, and I understand that it was a moment of weakness because of how frightening things are these days. One time after talking and cuddling for about an hour, she even tried to give me a handjob. I couldn't really get into it though, and I lost my erection. She cried some more, and laughed a little too. Looked in my eyes and said "maybe next time."
I really hope so. I'm so lonely up here.
April 1, 2018
Every time I heard a sound today, I'd frantically jolt awake and stare at the attic door for a few minutes after that. I kept expecting Chad and Stacy and somebody from the office to burst in and shout "April Fool!"
It never happened. The only thing that's a joke here is apparently my existence.
No, I can't sink into the situation like that. Things will definitely be better tomorrow. Stacy's coming over, and I haven't so much as touched myself for days because I want to be ready for her.
April 2, 2018
It felt so good to hold her in my arms again today. We kissed passionately, and she nearly ripped my pants off. Then I blew my load like ten seconds after she started sucking me. We shared an awkward, disappointed pause, but then I took her chin in my hand, had her look up at me. "Hey, that was just round one."
I went down on her and put all my skills to work. She's always told me I have a really talented mouth. I know I must've got her off at least once. I started to get a bit hard again, and so I leaned back to grab a condom. I couldn't put it on before I lost it again, though. Really embarrassing. She gave me a sad smile and said "it's fine. Come here." We kissed and cuddled some more and I fingered her for a while until she left.
April 10, 2018
Stacy came to visit again today. I was all over her as soon as she got up here. We actually managed to fuck for the first time in a couple months. I didn't last long though, once again. We cuddled some more, but she got real quiet. Eventually she said it. I knew it was coming, but the words still stung. "We have to talk."
I can't satisfy her. She says she doesn't think I could even if it were safe to come see me more than once every week or two. She still loves me, she'll still come to see me, but she needs somebody else. Choking back tears, I told her I understood, and that I could endure it so long as I don't have to really see what's going on. I said that if she ever runs into trouble or feels wrong looking for somebody else, she could talk to me.
"I don't want to look for somebody else."
"Then don't! Why did you bring it up if you don't want to do it?"
"No, I do need somebody else. But I don't want to look. I don't need to. I want to be with Chad."
I shut down after that. Not sure if there was anything more to the conversation.
April 12, 2018
So, it happened.
Chad actually came up and hung out with me a couple hours beforehand. Shared some beers with me. I think he was sort of trying to apologize, but I mostly zoned out.
When the doorbell rang, he went downstairs, and I could hear him greeting Stacy warmly. And that was that.
Some time later, maybe a couple hours, they were still at it. She was screaming to the heavens; I'm not sure I've ever made her feel that good. I just laid on my cot and cried the whole time. But hearing her pleasure also had an effect on me. I wound up masturbating myself to sleep.
May 4, 2018
I haven't written anything for a while because I didn't feel like it. I still don't feel like it. I don't feel like anything. I've been so depressed that I had to sort of disconnect from my own thoughts and feelings to get by. It's probably a good thing there's nothing in here I could easily kill myself with. I'm writing now just because I'm hoping it will help me feel more like a real person again. Or feel anything, for that matter.
Ever since that first time Chad fucked Stacy… Second time, I mean… Anyway, Stacy actually visited me more often for a while. Every day or two, I think. Basically everytime she came to see him. At first it was nice, practically the only good thing about my life. We'd cuddle up and talk like we used to, and a few times we played some old board games that were gathering dust up here. We even still had sex sometimes, although we both had trouble getting into it: her because she was already well-fucked, and me because sloppy seconds are… not really pleasant.
Whether it was the situation or the fact that I was starting to emotionally check out myself, she started to get more distant. Sex, and then any kind of intimacy, became shorter, less frequent. She'd talk to me like I was a friend she hadn't seen in a long time and who she didn't have much in common with anymore. Eventually, her coming up here at all became less frequent. Last time, we didn't touch at all, not even a hug. The time before that was even worse, though. We didn't even talk. She just came up here, dropped her panties, and asked me to eat her out. I was excited at first, but then I saw the disgusting white goo leaking out of her.
"Sorry, the condom broke tonight."
She just held my head closer and told me to keep going. When she was done, I started to unsnap my jeans. She got up and kissed me on the forehead.
"That's okay hon, I'm good."
And then she was gone.
September 11, 2018
Stacy hadn't even been up here for… two or three months, I think? I can barely tell when things happened anymore. I wish I could summon the will to write in this diary more just so I could remember how time works.
She was today, though. To tell me something.
She didn't need to actually say it, because she was clearly showing her pregnancy.
I was infuriated with her, and it was everything I could do not to shout and risk giving away my hiding place.
"How could this happen? Haven't you been on the pill? Haven't you been using condoms?"
She just looked me square in the eye and said, with obvious incredulity, "why would I use a condom with Chad?"
I sat on my cot and waited for her to leave.
March 21, 2019
It's been a year to the day since I started living in this attic. Stacy doesn't visit me at all anymore. Chad still does though. He clearly feels sorry for me, and still thinks of me as a friend. I don't know why. The whole rest of the world seems to have decided I'm not worth it, and so have I.
I can hear my wife and her son playing video games in the living room downstairs everyday. I don't know why I still think of her as my wife. The marriage was annulled a few months ago. It wasn't even a divorce, due to regulatory changes about missing husbands, apparently a pretty common problem these days. Annulled. In the eyes of the state, our relationship never existed, and I suspect Stacy feels the same way. Technically, that means I was never even a cuckold and so I should be safe, but I know the Frog Squads wouldn't see it that way, and honestly, I feel like it's become a part of my identity… A part? I never leave this attic. A cuck is all I am. It's all I have the chance to be.
I wish something, anything would change. I'd give anything to have a life again, just to get some fresh air. And I've been thinking alot about my wife's son. Nothing makes me angrier than thinking that bitch is down there with him. That little boy deserves to be brought up by somebody who's qualified to teach him real family values.
He deserves a good mom.
March 24, 2019
I've been straight my whole life. I mean, I had experiments when I was young, of course, and I've been a sincere and active ally to LGBT folks. But I've always felt like I was straight. So why did I do what I did yesterday?
Me and Chad were hanging out. I can't really remember what we were talking about, but at some point Stacy came up. I guess with the situation being so surreal, he forgot what it actually was. He started bragging about the sex they were having like he would with any other friend.
I broke out in tears. I confided in him that even though I hated her, I still missed her. It had been so long since anyone touched me. I just wanted to give somebody pleasure again. He got a real strange look in his eye, something that somehow mixed both deep pity and… amusement?
He told me that he understood. And then he… gave me a hug. He'd never done anything like that before. It seemed out of character for him. He's so macho, why would he do something like that? He must've known I was confused. He looked down at me and said "hey, I lift, okay? There's some really fugly dudes that lift you know, brah? And they got needs too, they're fuckin' high test. Ain't nothin' wrong with helpin' a buddy out."
Something broke inside me that moment. It's like his smell was different to me than it was before. Suddenly, I loved how sweaty he was, how hard his biceps were, wrapped around me.
I sucked his dick. It was so much bigger than mine, and I loved it.
I think I love Chad.
May 6, 2019
Ever since my relationship with Chad began developing, I've felt much more alive. He's so good to me… and so good in bed. Because she's not always here, he actually fucks me more often than he does Stacy, and I get a kind of sadistic pleasure out of that.
Since we talk so much more, I've also been more able to keep up with the news lately. Something really bizarre and mind-blowing happened recently. Apparently, Melania Trump is… trans! I'm floored, really, it just makes no sense to me. That pig-headed bigot has been married all this time to a pre-op transwoman? How? Hell, who's Barron's mom?
Amazingly, this hasn't really become a scandal, as such. Instead, it's apparently kicked off some really unexpected social changes. The Frog Squads have been really quiet lately, I guess because they don't know what to do about his most recent TV rant.
"Listen, people… everybody, listen. Transgendered women, liking them… It's not homosexual in any way. Look at Melania. Isn't she beautiful? Come on, give her a round of applause… You're going to try and tell me she's not a woman? Look at her! She's the most beautiful woman there is, I wouldn't marry her otherwise! Her penis? It's feminine… Come on, it's SO feminine. It's more feminine than any pussy I've ever grabbed. It's a great little penis."
"Now, I've been hearing lots of handwringing from what's left of the left-wing fake news that there's all kinds of hate crimes, violence against the transgendered. And in these cases they bring up, there's always a trail of threats and harassment that make it clear they're targeting these people because they're convinced they're homosexual. And I'm here to tell you I'm not having it! I'm not hearing it! Alright? Transwomen… what the kids these days call 'traps?' They're NOT gay. End of discussion. No questions."
I don't really know what I can add to that statement. It's like news from another planet.
June 13, 2019
After me and Chad got done having sex today, he got real quiet. I asked him what's wrong.
"There's… there's something I want to tell you. Stacy… I feel really bad about what she did to you, you know? It's awful. And I'm sorry for my part in it but… you know, I just did what I felt like I had to do at the time, and I'm sorry. She's not driven by need, though. She just seems like a bitch. And ever since she found out we help each other out, she's been a bitch to me, too. Still can't get off my dick to save her life but…"
"But what?"
"I don't… I don't even want to give her my dick anymore. She's not good enough."
A grin covered my whole face, and I fell back on the cot laughing.
"Hey… Hey, I'm trying to be serious here, you know? It's tough for a guy like me to talk about stuff like this."
"I know, I'm sorry. Tell me what you're thinking."
"Well, it's just… I really wish things could be different. I want to be in a real relationship with you. I want to be able to show you off to my buddies like I would any of my girlfriends… But you're not a girl. And I'm not a queer. And they might still come for you anyway. They got somebody who had been in hiding for just as long as you the other day. I don't want you to get hurt. It's like… this world is so weird, you know, brah? Like, I wish you were a different person."
"Yeah… Yeah, I wish that too, alot."
"Well, that's actually what I kinda wanted to tell you. I… I had an idea."
He got up and put something on my nightstand. He stood around awkwardly for a minute, like he was trying to find more words.
"I… love you, bro," he stammered out before he went back downstairs.
Without looking at it, I knew what he'd put on the nightstand. Estrogen.
November 3, 2020
I just got done voting!
Ever since I started taking the estrogen, my life has really turned around. I enjoyed sex with Chad even more, and Stacy… heh, she didn't! Near the beginning of this year, I was even able to finally come out of the attic. Some regulations about name change paperwork were seriously overhauled, and so I was able to reenter the world as who I really am, with nobody the wiser about who I used to be. A few weeks after that, that bitch Stacy got into a public argument with me, and the next day, she was the third woman ever to be killed by a Frog Squad for being a cuck! Couldn't happen to a nicer whore!
So here we are today. My name is Anne Frank, and I'm Chad's Asian trapwife. I'm helping take care of our son, just like I always should've been. I'm so glad Daddy Trump made gender great again!
















