The 2016 Federal Erection Writing Competition

By Samuel Leighton-Dore

With the 2016 Federal Election approaching like the little train that couldn’t, Heaps Gay thought it was time we brought some much-needed humour, fun and sexuality to Australian politics.

Because we’re tired of the predictable rhetoric. We’re tired of having our right to marry tossed around like a political pawn piece. We’re tired of negative gearing and trickle-down economics and back-door (wink) deals with the dirty Libs.

Which is why we’re super excited to announce the first ever Federal Erection Erotic Fan Fiction Competition!

Was Malcolm’s public betrayal of Tony’s trust only magnified by an unreported sexual betrayal behind closed doors? Have Penny and Tanya found themselves stuck in an elevator with nothing but rising temperatures, damp synthetic button-ups, and time to kill?

We want you to send your most erotic #AusPol fan-fiction (between 600-900 words) to

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The Prize?

The winning entry, as judged by a panel of editors and LGBTQI influencers, will receive a cool $250 cash and a 6-month paid columnist position at Heaps Gay. The winner’s story will also be illustrated and published in a pretty great soon-TBC magazine.

For the runner-ups, we’re planning to print a super-cute “Federal Erection” zine featuring all the entries, which will be launched at some epic erotic fiction slam-down to celebrate (or commiserate) our new PM’s first term. Profits to be donated to Australian Marriage Equality.

So saddle up and get on it!

To get things started, here’s our first entry… Warning: it’s pretty fucking hot.

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by Samuel Henning

Bill’s tie was strangling him; the assistants always put it on too tight.

He fidgeted with his collar, trying to loosen the noose. He stared at the jumble of colors on the carpet. RSL carpets were always like that. Someone had told him once that they were designed to hide vomit. But if the whole thing looked like vomit, then what was the point?

“Mr Shorten, I’ve been looking for you everywhere” It was Felicity, his junior aide.

You’ve got a meet and greet in forty five minutes, and a press conference in two hours.” Bill looked up from the dregs of his shandy. There were people all around, but suddenly the room seemed to grow silent as footsteps approached.

Someone tapped him softly on the shoulder. “Ahhh, William.” Came a velvety voice. His heart quickened; it was Malcolm. “You showed fine form out there today. It was a worthy debate.” Bill turned to face him, smiling politely. “Thanks Malcolm, you too. But I guess we won’t know until the election, will we?”

Felicity nodded to Malcolm and excused herself; “We’ve got forty five minutes, Mr. Shorten.”

Malcolm seemed preoccupied; he was nursing a glass of the house red that was filled almost to the brim. As he shifted from foot to foot the wine would lap gently at the rim of the glass. Something was troubling him. “William, I’ll be frank with you.” He said, wincing as he took a sip. “I never held you in particularly high regard. I thought you were a Union Thug and a bore, but in the past few weeks you’ve showed your mettle. Your zingers have improved immeasurably, and your strength is growing.” He stopped, smoothing his silver hair with one hand.

“If there’s one thing that I admire in an adversary it is his strength. One thing that I…respect.” Malcolm blushed, loosening his tie. He drained the glass in a series of long gulps.

“I was wondering if we could discuss the debate in private.”

The green room of the Windsor RSL was abandoned. Members of the press had all left to file their stories and hit the bar. Malcolm pulled up two seats and poured some leftover Moët into paper cups sitting on a collapsible table. Bill looked at his watch.

“So we’ve agreed on refugees.” Malcolm nodded.

“And the NBN?”

“Er…more or less.”

“What about the Banks?” Asked Bill.

“I had words with them at Westpac’s birthday party,” said Malcolm. “It’s all cool.”

“How do you feel about a federal corruption watchdog?”

They both laughed. Bill sighed, looking at his watch.

“Then what is it you wanted to discuss with me exactly?”

Malcolm leaned forward. “I want to form a coalition.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. In all his time in parliament he had never noticed the Prime Minister’s powerful physique; the strong jawline that hid beneath that broad, sly smile. Malcolm placed a hand on top of Bill’s. “I’m tired of all this fighting William, I’m tired of all this…tension. I want to form a coalition of you and me.”

Suddenly it all made sense, Bill thought. The gibes, the taunting; this was how Malcolm flirted. Bill’s heart leaped, his desire was instant. Consumed with a lustful intensity he did not know he possessed, he pushed aside the table that was separating them. Grabbing the PM, Bill pushed him hard up against the wall. He kissed Malcolm slowly, letting his fingers explore the space between the buttons on Malcolm’s shirt; the Prime Minister’s skin was warm and invitingly smooth.

Malcolm broke free from the kiss, neck arching backwards in ecstasy.

He let out a low, soft moan, and leaned in to Bill’s ear. “The Fairfax press said you’d given me a good thumping out there” He whispered. “I was wondering if you would give me another, you dirty little union thug.”

Overwhelmed with the urgency of his desire, Bill fumbled with Malcolm’s belt, before pulling down his pinstriped trousers and briefs. Bill was surprised by Malcolm’s size; the honorable Malcolm Turnbull hung down to just above his knee, and he was getting hard. Bill firmly stroked the Prime Ministerial rod as it grew even harder. He kissed Malcolm’s neck gently, moving all the way up to his ear.

“Will the member for Wentworth please stand up…” he whispered.

Malcolm was busy unclasping Bill’s belt buckle; soon Bill’s pants were around his ankles too. Malcolm’s strong, warm hands gently cupped the leader of the opposition.

“Mmmm, Shorten Thick, does the trick” Malcolm purred as he gently caressed the rock hard bulge in Bill’s Y-fronts.

A coronation portrait of the Queen watched over them as they undressed and sank to the green room floor. And amid the empty cups and discarded lanyards their naked bodies entwined.

At last they were alone together.

Entries deadline: June 30th.


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