Smith farted. "Oh, sorry about that, old bean. The way should be clear now." Bent over the table, he wiggled his bum and bit his lip as the alien's twenty-inch-long, pipe-cleaner-thin finger slid up his rectum.
Jones farted, too, except his was more muffled on account of the alien shoulder-deep up his bum. "I blame the Mexican they're feeding us."
"Yes, the spices don't sit well with my bowels."
"What I wouldn't give for a lightly buttered crumpet."
"And what I wouldn't give for an alien with shorter fingers."
"I'd offer you mine, but this one likes to crawl inside and walk around for a while."
It had been like this for a few days now. Ever since the aliens invaded. They'd wake up at six in the morning, eat tortillas and guacamole, then get probed for an hour or two. After that it was smooth sailing. A laxative for lunch and dinner. A bowel movement at nine. Then they'd watch illegally downloaded movies and drink an alien brain tonic in the rumpus room. They'd fall asleep while watching the movie and wake up at six and the fun would start again.
"Have you seen Kris lately?" Jones asked Smith.
"No. I do hope she's being treated better than Boogaloo." Smith jerked his head over his left shoulder, towards Boogaloo's dissected corpse—or what should've been Boogaloo's dissected corpse, were it not for whatever drugs they were pumping through the poor Bingleboo to keep him alive while they sliced him open and explored his innards.
"I'd say I hope she's being treated better than we are, dear Smith," Jones said before screwing up his face as the alien flicked his brain, then a second later gave his prostate a good massage. "But I do believe she'd enjoy this sort of thing."
---
In a nearby room, Kris howled in pleasure as she rocked her hips forwards and back along the alien's hotdog-sized finger.
The alien didn't know what to do. Humans had never responded like this before.
Wiping the sweat off her brow, Kris removed herself from the finger and said, "Now it's my turn to give you a good... probing." She booted the alien to what passed for its knees and bent it forward. She looked and looked but couldn't find an asshole. "When in Rome," she quipped for no reason at all and jammed a nearby power tool against where the alien's asshole should be and pulled the trigger.
---
"Did you hear something?" Smith asked. It was the good part of the probing now, where another alien came around with a small cup to collect his essence.
"Hmm?" Jones barely heard the question as he was far too focused on the high-pitched squealing of the ISU (intestinal scraping unit), which was only made tolerable from the numbing agent they'd injected into his spine. A second alien held him steady while the first got in deep with the scraper. The floor was covered in blood and slime.
"I must admit." Smith shifted uncomfortably as the green liquid was poured into a funnel sticking out his rear. "This isn't as fun as the first time."
"No, it really isn't," Jones agreed, as what resembled a shotgun slid into his bum and fired what very well could have been birdshot. "I do hope the white light appears soon."
"Agreed, good chap. When Kris mentioned probing before they took her away, she made it sound like a rather simple process." Smith gritted his teeth as the alien drew a funny face on his cheeks. "And to think, every single person in the world is currently experiencing this treatment."
"Certainly brings new meaning to the words 'invasion of privacy,'" Jones said as the aliens played ring toss with him.
The white light appeared suddenly, and, before it took our heroes away, the tossed ring spun around on the pole sticking out of Jones' bottom and the aliens cheered.
They'd just managed to solve the problems of world peace, world hunger, and what came before the beginning of time.
