Chapter 5: Prosciutto Eats a Shit Sandwich

 

Prosciutto returned to his apartment to find a weeping Pesci sitting at the dining table. He sighed. Formaggio was right. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to handle this, but at least they weren’t in public.

Prosciutto pulled a seat and sat down. “You want to talk about it?”

Pesci wiped his tears and snot away and looked at him. “Talk about what?”

“You went to that ogre, didn’t you?”

“And?”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

Pesci burst into tears again. “I told him I was unfaithful, but he was cheating first. He slept with the cyclops’ wife! But, um, I did sleep with the cyclops and did him a favor by stalking his wife, but Shrek had been cheating on us! That’s why he assassinated Arthur and made Merlin cast a spell on us.”

Prosciutto had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but he pretended to. “There, there.” He patted his back. “What’s past is past.”

“But, Prosciutto, you don’t understand! We can’t let him get away with this! He cheated on Melone, and he had his baby.”

Okay, this was getting weird. Prosciutto didn’t want to understand anymore. “You know what I do when I get upset? I go to the bar and have a drink.”

Pesci got up from his seat. “You’re right, bro. I’m going to head out. I need to clear my mind off things.” He left.

Finally, he could relax, but first, he needed to pee, so he went to the bathroom. He unzipped and pissed into the toilet. He felt free after having to hold it in for so long.

“Pissing all by yourself, handsome?” a voice from behind said.

Prosciutto stopped pissing, zipped his pants up, and looked behind him. A towering green ogre smiled at him, causing him to panic and almost fall into the toilet, but Shrek grabbed him, keeping him from falling. He pulled him in close as if they were about to embrace.

“Are you alright?” the ogre asked.

He gulped and blushed. “Y-yes, I am. When did—”

“Are you done peeing?”

“What?” He wanted to ask when and how he got in. He should’ve heard footsteps, but maybe the sound of his piss hitting the toilet water was too loud.

“Are you done peeing?”

“Who are you? Why does this concern you?”

“You know who I am. And you’re not free until you pee. Continue, and sorry for interrupting.”

“O-okay.” Prosciutto unzipped his pants. “Are you going to get out?”

“Hmm.” Shrek’s hands wandered to his crotch, touching his cock through the fabric of his pants. The blond gently bit his lips. “I guess.”

He left the bathroom, letting Prosciutto piss in peace.

“That was weird,” he commented. He tried to piss, but he had a boner. “Fuck.”

He needed something that would kill his boner, something disgusting like Pesci’s mom. She always smelled like fish. A tuna sandwich sounds nasty, but a shit sandwich sounds revolting. Ugh, he still had his boner. Damn it!

And then Shrek returned. He could hear his footsteps. “Still can’t piss, can you?”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m horny.”

Prosciutto was silent for a while. “Do you love me?”

“No, let me just get you off, and you’ll get me off.”

Shrek grabbed his pants and pulled them down, along with his underwear, stroking his cock. His hands were so large; he had to use his pointer finger and thumb. He went slowly and then fast a few minutes later, leaving Prosciutto panting. Shrek typically took his time pleasuring others, but he wanted to be pleased now. He had something planned for his precious blond.

Prosciutto came and then pissed.

“That’s my boy,” Shrek commented.

“You’re freaking me out. Get out!”

“I think you owe me something.”

Prosciutto sniffed the air, smelling something awful. “Why does it smell like shit?”

“Let’s head to the kitchen.”

Shrek escorted the blond to the dining room, and a plate of a shit sandwich was on the table.

“What the fuck?” Prosciutto looked at the ogre.

“You owe me for getting you off. I want you to eat that. And don’t think about fighting back. I know everything about your stand, the Grateful Dead. Go on and sit down.” Shrek pulled a chair and forced him to sit. He sat on the other side of the table. “Go on. It won’t hurt.”

Prosciutto stared at the sandwich for a while, its stench unbearable. Who would be sick enough to watch him do this? He stared at Shrek, hoping this was all a joke.

He smiled. “I can always shove it down your throat and make you drink my piss to water it down.”

He wasn’t interested, and he held the sandwich. Prosciutto once heard if you don’t breathe while eating, it’ll be flavorless. He brought the sandwich closer to his face, head turning away in defiance.

“God,” he complained.

“Down the hatch.” Shrek laughed.

Prosciutto stopped breathing and quickly ate the sandwich. It was silent for a few seconds.

“Well,” Shrek said, “how was—”

Prosciutto got up and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

“Damn, I was hoping he’d vomit in my mouth. Well, at least I came in my pants.”