Packed Lunch

By Alabama Washington

Not long after stumbling out of the Irish Pub, Bruno Bates found his way down a darkened alleyway. This dank cobblestone cesspool would be where the greys abducted the poor boy. A light came from the sky, shrouding him, and in its warmth he began to float upwards.

After a brief period of being blacked out Bruno came to with his face buried deep within a pink plush carpet and his pants down to his knees. He was resting in the “duck and cover” position, face in his lap and ass in the air. Urine was trickling into his mouth and nostrils. He finally snapped back to reality with the echoes of a familiar voice.

“Two fingers, up to the second knuckle and then twist.”

Bruno snapped his head to the left and witnessed something most absurd: former President Lincoln standing behind a tiny grey alien who was second knuckle deep up the bare ass of a saggy-skinned white man. Apparently, Mr. President was instructing the anal intrusion. But there was something different about him, something Bruno just could not place a finger on.

“Excuse me Mr. President, but there is a difference in your appearance that is causing me to ponder.”

Lincoln turned, faced Bruno and spoke “Please, my boy, please continue.”

“Well, Mr. President, by chance would you have happened to shave?”

President Lincoln tilted his head, and spoke with a half cocked upper lip, “No sir, I did not, nor shall I tomorrow.”

He quickly dismissed any further conversation with a smug look out the corner of his eyes.

“Fucking elitist,” Bruno whispered under his breath to avoid the wrath of the President.

“I heard that, and now you’re next, boy.” Bruno could tell by the tone of Lincoln’s voice that it was a promise.

The Grey then removed his two probing fingers and waved them beneath the presidential nose. Lincoln shook his head no, almost violently enough to throw the feather headdress from his skull.

“We will find it, I am sure of that. I packed my lunch in one of these here. For that I am damned sure.”

A quick sweat dampened Bruno’s brow, he began to grow evermore nervous. The President’s eyes focused on him, and he knew that the man had his suspicion. He turned his head so the President couldn’t see his guilt, but it was too late.

“Get’em boys,” the President snapped. Bruno attempted to push himself up. His attempt was thwarted by the small, child-like hands of a group of Greys. The President stood above him, staring down into Bruno’s watering eyes.

“I swear Mr. President, I didn’t know!”

Lincoln’ nostrils flared.

“I didn’t know it was your banana! That’s all, I swear to you. I left the sandwich alone. It’s still there.”

President Lincoln’s eyes grew large, he took a deep breath and pointed a finger into the boy’s face.

“Goddamn hooplehead! You thieve! You goddamn thieven’ hooplehead! I packed that lunch! I did! For myself to eat, not you! Not you… You scumbag!”

With that Bruno could feel the rush of two small child-like fingers thrusting into his rectum. One knuckle, two knuckles deep and then the twist: one finger to the left, the other to the right. Bruno clinched, but his cheeks could not fight the overpowered alien’s strength. His anus slowly began to open.

“That’s it boys. Open him wide. Mr. President is hungry.” The President’s arm made it elbow deep before Bruno lost consciousness.

Bruno woke at the end of a large wooden table. Lincoln was seated directly across from him in mid-chew of a ham sandwich. Globs of mayonnaise dripped from the corners of his mouth. The President then set his sandwich down on the table and his eyes focused on Bruno.

“Mr. Pres… President?” he managed.

“Yeath, my thun?” Lincoln answered, mouth full of food.

“Are you… am I going to… ”

“No,” the President intercepted, “I am not going to kill you.”

Bruno sighed in relief.

“But,” Lincoln said, “You will be dealt with unless you agree to fulfill a last priority that is bothering me.” He took a vicious bite from the sandwich, ripping it apart like a wild animal.

“Yes. Anything... ” Bruno spiked his words with excitement at the opportunity to continue living. Lincoln held his hand up and snapped his fingers. At that very moment the Greys burst into the room, holding a cage containing the bite-size French General Napoleon, foaming at the mouth, dashing back and forth, banging his fists against the metallic bars.

Bruno gulped.

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