The Shrek Chronicles

Shrek Gets Back Home

*SHREK' S POV*

Ugh, finally I can feel the plane lowering back onto the ground, and I am so glad to be home. I mean, they ride wasn't too bad, after all, I snuck into the bathroom about every hour or so to jerk my green cock.

Walking through the aisle of the plane, I let out a few deliciously scented farts, and I can hear a woman behind me beating her kid while blaming him for the stench. Once I've grabbed my bags and hopped off the plane, I see my wife, Fiona, and my children waiting for me in our white-ass SUBARU. Did her luscious, green tits get bigger?, I think to myself as I make my way to the car.

I open the door, and the first damn thing I hear is my children, who are annoying and ugly as fuck. In all honesty, all three of them were mistakes, because when Fiona and I grind the meat, she loves the way my cum feels inside of her. "Hey offspring," I tell them. "Could ya so me a favor and shut your damn mouths? I better hope none of you are high." The first thing I do when I'm in the car is kiss Fiona while rubbing my manly hands all over her boobs, which are semi-covered by her slutty wide-neck shirt and very soft. Almost immediately, she shoves them off of her as if I'm some creepy man who's into MILF porn.

"Don't fucking touch me you skank-ass hoe," she says with a scoff, her green eyes aflame with anger.

"Whadya mean love? I thought you loved it when I grabbed handfuls of your tits? Is something wrong?" I plead, as this isn't like her at all.

"I don't know, Shrek. Why don't you go ask the Larry Stylinson fanfiction I saw on your fucking Ipad?"

Oh shit, I forgot to log out of Wattpad before I left to the White House! She's probably seen all of the gay anal sex I read, and knows about my kink for members of One Direction in lacey pink thongs! By now my cheeks are as red as the head of Obama's dick, knowing that Fiona has most likely put two and two together and realized that I'm a bisexual ogre with over 7 side hoes, after all, I doubt she's forgotten about the time she caught Pete Wentz and I sending each other nudes when she went through my phone, or when she found a glittery dildo hidden under our mattress that didn't belong to her. I struggle finding my words, but manage to come up with some while I stutter.

"I-I'm really sorry about that Fiona, but the s-sexual tension between Louis and Harry can never alter the way I feel about you. I hope you can forgive me, I love you," I lied. The only things I love about her are those humongous boobs and the way I can slide in and out of her with ease.

"Cut your crap Shrek, I want your gay ass out of our swamp by Saturday. Maybe you can find another asshole to penetrate daily, but not mine, nuh-uh. I am done being your beard," she screams, folding her arms underneath her tits and turning her head to look out the window. Through the reflection on the glass, I notice a tear running down her cheeks, and feel kinda bad.

. . . . .