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“Maurice, bring me what you have on the speech so far.”
“Yes, sir.”
A small, mousy girl hurried over to the desk, sliding across it an orderly stack of papers, each word detailing the fate of the union as America knew it. Before Obama’s hand could reach them, however, another staff member burst through the doors. The two secret service officers began to react to the intruder, but Obama waved them down, recognizing his assistant secretary.
“Mr. President,” the distressed young man began, “there’s a monster out front, a monster, he’s trying to get in and he’s asking for you and I don’t know what to do and all of the guards, he’s beating them and—”
“Jonathan, calm down. I’m going to ask you a question, and it is of utmost importance that you answer me completely correctly.” Obama rose slowly from his seat and braced his arms on the table as he stared the secretary down, a dark look falling across his face. “This— this ‘monster,’ as you say— what color is his skin?”
“Um, it was green, sir, but I hardly think you’re in a position to be racist, sir—” Obama held up a hand to silence the boy. “This creature… Bring him to me.”
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The hulking mass of green flesh stood in the center of the near-empty room.
“So we meet again, Barack.”
“So we do, ogre.”
They stared each other down for another moment before grins broke out on their faces. Barack was the first to step forward, and they both held each other in a tight embrace. They pulled back, still keeping their grip on the other’s elbows.
“I’ve missed you, buddy,” Obama said. “I thought for sure you weren’t coming back.”
“Oh, our love is never ogre, laddy.”
“Right you are, Shrek.” Obama stared into his eyes lovingly for a few seconds before patting the ogre’s arm. “Sit down, please. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
As Obama was rounding the corner of his desk, Shrek snaked his arms around the shorter man’s waist from behind, stopping him in his tracks. “We sure do have a lot of things to catch up on, huh?” Shrek reached over to the desk and picked up a framed photograph of Obama and his wife, Michelle. “Like how you’ve gotten someone to keep you occupied in my absence.”
Obama whirled around and desperately gripped the front of Shrek’s tunic. “Please, you have to understand! I thought you were never coming back, none of us did. I thought what we had was gone, Shrek.” Obama’s voice cracked and he pressed his forehead against Shrek’s chest as raw sobs wracked his body. “I thought you were gone…”
Shrek softly stroked the president’s short hair. “I know laddy. It’s alright. You found this woman, and I found someone, too.”
The president gave an undignified sniffle before he spoke. “You— you did?”
Shrek thought of his donkey waiting for him back at his swamp. “Yes. A wily little thing with a sharp wit and a big mouth.”
“A big mouth? Well, I’ll show you, I have a big mouth, too!” Obama sank to his knees in front of the monster, reaching under the ends of his tunic and into the waistband of his plaid pants, pulling out the massive, flaccid mini-Shrek.
“You have nothing to prove to me, P.O.T.U.S. But if you would like to do this, please, be my guest.”
As Barack’s open mouth approached the love wand, he began to cry again. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… I haven’t done this in so long, and I’m sure that if my life were a fanfiction, the writer wouldn’t feel able to write a good blowjob. I’m sorry, Shrek.”
“Aye, it’s alright, my boy. I’m sure the writer is perfectly adept at many other facets of writing, and they just haven’t tried their hand at much sex yet, except for a weird sword porn fic as a gag gift for their friend last year. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“Though that sword porn was surprisingly good.”
“I agree, Barack. I agree.”