Dr. Chicken George
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2015
Let's Sperg kiwifarms.net Plays Coming Out On Top - Bros Are Hoes
- Thread starter Hummingbird
- Start date
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Since there was a tie, I rolled a die and we're going with Dr. Chicken George's.
Amos: Let's be realistic here. I don't expect you'd fare well against someone so much larger than you. Also, revenge needs to be crafted more carefully. Not just rushed into. At the moment, I'd like to recuperate a little.
Dirk: Do you want to take a walk?
Amos: No, not really.
Dirk: Do you want to talk?
Amos: Yeah...It feels like I've failed. Not so much the fight, but more that I let it get to that point. Just stupid, really. I reacted with haste. What I should've done is quite this ridiculous fetish of mine. Don't mistake my meaning. While wrestling was fun and exciting and it worked for me for a long time. But it's a younger man's providence. I suppose this was a hard-won lesson. I'd be foolish not to gather the meaning of the situation. We have the understand our limitations and nuances - the soft notes of our lives that guide us down the right paths.
Amos: Let's be realistic here. I don't expect you'd fare well against someone so much larger than you. Also, revenge needs to be crafted more carefully. Not just rushed into. At the moment, I'd like to recuperate a little.
Dirk: Do you want to take a walk?
Amos: No, not really.
Dirk: Do you want to talk?
Amos: Yeah...It feels like I've failed. Not so much the fight, but more that I let it get to that point. Just stupid, really. I reacted with haste. What I should've done is quite this ridiculous fetish of mine. Don't mistake my meaning. While wrestling was fun and exciting and it worked for me for a long time. But it's a younger man's providence. I suppose this was a hard-won lesson. I'd be foolish not to gather the meaning of the situation. We have the understand our limitations and nuances - the soft notes of our lives that guide us down the right paths.
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Amos: Hmmmm. Anything? Do you mean that? Because I just had an epiphany.
Narrator: Amos has a look in his eye that you're not sure about, but you did give him your word.
Adam: (sweating) Sure, anything.
Amos: We're going to challenge Gregor to a tag-team match!
Dirk: We're what?
Amos: He's terrible at work with other people. It doesn't matter who he gets on this team. They'll lack unity and team work.
Dirk: But I do not, I cannot WRESTLE AT ALL!
Amos: This is just ammeter stuff. I'll help you train. Trust me. I know when I'm on something. Whatever you lack in strength and training, you'll make up in speed, vigor and with my help, cunning.
Dirk: Okay. I mean, why the Hell not? It's not like I'm going to die or anything. Right?
Amos: This is a master stroke! There is an order to all things in the universe, Dirk, whether we can see it or not. The ability to detect that order lies not in conscious thought, but in having the sensitivity in to notice those higher truths in the depths of our being.
Narrator: All you can think is being sensitive the world of pain that awaits you.
Dirk: Yeah, sure, ok.
Amos: Then we're agreed. I'm going to tend to my wounds. Then I'll issue the challenge at once.
Narrator: He opens the trunk and hands you a book, encouraging you to read it cover to cover. He then gives you a big enthusiastic hug. You leave, not sure what the Hell you just agreed to.
Friday...
Narrator: You sit on the bed on your room, tucked into a light blue wrestling singlet, reading the book Amos gave you, "Lucha Libre Por Idiotas." You can't understand much of the book as it's Spanish, but the pictures are kind of nice.
Dirk: IAN! COME HERE!
Ian: Whoa dude. What's with the get up?
Dirk: I hate to say this, but you were right about the wrestling.
Ian: Of course I was. So what's with the outfit? You have a tournament or something?
Dirk: Actually yes, that's why I'm trying to read this book and learn a few moves. I somehow hope agreed to be in a tag team match with Amos. Still not sure how exactly how that happened.
Ian: The more exciting question is, where did you get the amazing gear?
Dirk: Wrestling World.
Ian: You bought that? Bummer. You could've borrowed my stuff. I was known as The Padding King.
Dirk: Hmmm. Dare I ask why?
Ian: I cannot disclose that information. It may or may not have been shart related.
Dirk: Not sure I'd have wanted to borrow that singlet. Anyway, that's kind of a strange nickname for a high school league sport.
Ian: It wasn't league related. Me and my friends liked to do professional wrestling style stuff after school.
Narrator: Ian guides you through the basics of 'professional' wrestling. Then shows you a few more advanced moves and finally, how to scream at the top of your lungs while talking trash.
Ian: Don't forget to talk trash. That's the most important thing about wrestling.
Dirk: I'll try to remember that.
Saturday...
Narrator: You arrive at Amos' place, clad only in your singlet and matching high-top wrestling boots. You enter quietly and hear a noise behind you.
Dirk: Oh hey. I guess we arrived at the same time.
Gregor: ...
Dirk: So who am I fighting today?
Narrator: Gregor speaks as if you weren't even there.
Gregor: He knew whose gentle hand was at the latch, before the door had given her to his eyes; And from her chamber window he would catch, her beauty farther than the falcon spies,
Dante: That's beautiful man.
Narrator: Both men regard you as if you were a speck of dirt. Ian's voice echos in your head.
Ian: The most important part of wrestling, dude.
Dirk: Are you guys just giving me the cold shoulder or what?
Both men: ...
Dirk: ...
Narrator: Amos has a look in his eye that you're not sure about, but you did give him your word.
Adam: (sweating) Sure, anything.
Amos: We're going to challenge Gregor to a tag-team match!
Dirk: We're what?
Amos: He's terrible at work with other people. It doesn't matter who he gets on this team. They'll lack unity and team work.
Dirk: But I do not, I cannot WRESTLE AT ALL!
Amos: This is just ammeter stuff. I'll help you train. Trust me. I know when I'm on something. Whatever you lack in strength and training, you'll make up in speed, vigor and with my help, cunning.
Dirk: Okay. I mean, why the Hell not? It's not like I'm going to die or anything. Right?
Amos: This is a master stroke! There is an order to all things in the universe, Dirk, whether we can see it or not. The ability to detect that order lies not in conscious thought, but in having the sensitivity in to notice those higher truths in the depths of our being.
Narrator: All you can think is being sensitive the world of pain that awaits you.
Dirk: Yeah, sure, ok.
Amos: Then we're agreed. I'm going to tend to my wounds. Then I'll issue the challenge at once.
Narrator: He opens the trunk and hands you a book, encouraging you to read it cover to cover. He then gives you a big enthusiastic hug. You leave, not sure what the Hell you just agreed to.
Friday...
Narrator: You sit on the bed on your room, tucked into a light blue wrestling singlet, reading the book Amos gave you, "Lucha Libre Por Idiotas." You can't understand much of the book as it's Spanish, but the pictures are kind of nice.
Dirk: IAN! COME HERE!
Ian: Whoa dude. What's with the get up?
Dirk: I hate to say this, but you were right about the wrestling.
Ian: Of course I was. So what's with the outfit? You have a tournament or something?
Dirk: Actually yes, that's why I'm trying to read this book and learn a few moves. I somehow hope agreed to be in a tag team match with Amos. Still not sure how exactly how that happened.
Ian: The more exciting question is, where did you get the amazing gear?
Dirk: Wrestling World.
Ian: You bought that? Bummer. You could've borrowed my stuff. I was known as The Padding King.
Dirk: Hmmm. Dare I ask why?
Ian: I cannot disclose that information. It may or may not have been shart related.
Dirk: Not sure I'd have wanted to borrow that singlet. Anyway, that's kind of a strange nickname for a high school league sport.
Ian: It wasn't league related. Me and my friends liked to do professional wrestling style stuff after school.
Narrator: Ian guides you through the basics of 'professional' wrestling. Then shows you a few more advanced moves and finally, how to scream at the top of your lungs while talking trash.
Ian: Don't forget to talk trash. That's the most important thing about wrestling.
Dirk: I'll try to remember that.
Saturday...
Narrator: You arrive at Amos' place, clad only in your singlet and matching high-top wrestling boots. You enter quietly and hear a noise behind you.
Dirk: Oh hey. I guess we arrived at the same time.
Gregor: ...
Dirk: So who am I fighting today?
Narrator: Gregor speaks as if you weren't even there.
Gregor: He knew whose gentle hand was at the latch, before the door had given her to his eyes; And from her chamber window he would catch, her beauty farther than the falcon spies,
Dante: That's beautiful man.
Narrator: Both men regard you as if you were a speck of dirt. Ian's voice echos in your head.
Ian: The most important part of wrestling, dude.
Dirk: Are you guys just giving me the cold shoulder or what?
Both men: ...
Dirk: ...
Dr. Chicken George
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2015
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Narrator: You jump forward and start looking around like you can barely contain your rage, like you can't fucking wait to unleash your fury.
Dirk: OOOOOHHHHH! YEEEEAAAAHHHH! YOU KNOW, AS I WAS WALKING OVER HERE I COULDN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT ONE THING.
Both Men: ....
Dirk: ONE THING. NOW ASK ME WHAT IT WAS.
Both Men: ...
Dirk: ASK ME WHAT IT WAS?!
Dante: What was it?
Dirk: (Turns towards Gregor.) HOW CAN THIS CREATURE OVER HERE EVEN CALL HIMSELF A MAN. HOW CAN HE LOOK AT HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR EVERY MORNING WITHOUT VOMITING, WITHOUT CRYING, WITHOUT BASHING HIMSELF IN THE FACE, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING FOLKS. THIS IS NOT A MAN. THIS IS GARBAGE ON LEGS, THIS IS WALKING EXCREMENT, THE STINK ON A TOILET AFTER A HARD NIGHT OF DRINKING AND EATING QUESTIONABLE FOOD. THIS IS THE MOLDY CHEESE ON AN OLD MAN'S ROTTING DICK WHO DIED WHILE MASTURBATING.
Amos: Ok, I think that's enough. Thank-you, Dirk.
Narrator: Amos appear. His fire engine red attire, bulky in the right places.
Gregor: Hmph.
Amos: Grrr.
Narrator: A man in a striped shirt, presumably the referee, walks in after Amos.
Referee: But first, let's go over the rules of engagement so everyone's clear. No scratching, biting, eye raking, nut punching or penis pulling. No use of weaponry or foreign substances. Only one member of each team may be in the ring at one time. Any violation of the rules is an automatic disqualification. Per usual terms of the contestants, winners do with the losers as they wish. Are we all clear?
Narrator: Everyone nods.
Referee: Alright, let's head to the garage and get this party started.
Narrator: Despite your boisterous pre-match speech, you start to feel shaky. Amos notices.
Amos: Did you read the book I gave you?
Dirk: Um, no. I can't read Spanish.
Amos: Oh. Opps. I forgot about that. Just don't be nervous. That's the worst thing you can do.
Dirk: (sweating) Ok.
Given how long this thing runs, I had to cut a bunch of stuff.
Amos: Don't worry, I've got a plan. I know his weakness. I'm going to wear him down, then bring you in for the finish. Stay in the corner and wait for my tap.
Dirk: Right. I'll jump in and finish him off. I got it.
Referee: Hear ye, hear ye, ladies and gents, tonight we have a bout for the tag team championship of the world. Combined at 467 pounds, we have Amos and uh, what's your name kid?
Dirk: Dirk.
Referee: In this corner, weighing at a combined 515 pounds we have Gregor and Dante.
Narrator: Amos and Gregor approach the middle of the battle field. The ref jumps out of the way as Amos and Gregor begin circling the ring, sizing each other up.
Gregor: How strange is is this man on Earth should roam. And lead a life of woe, but not for sake. His rugged path; nor dare he view alone. His future doom is to but awake.
Amos: Rhyming? That's not an expression. That's slavery! Absurdity. All of it.
Gregor: It's neither less nor more absurd than any other language's harsh restraints. The point, though, is simple. For beauty. Something that was always lost on you.
Amos: Beauty at what cost? At the cost of freedom, you've paid too much. Words will always dance in the hands of a master. Not all words grow wings, though.
Gregor: Beauty justifies itself. Love justifies itself. Perfection seeks itself and justifies all things.
Amos: 'Perfection' - that name for something that never existed. Not anywhere on earth or above. Only in the minds of men. Only in the minds of foolish men.
Gregor: Words are nothing more than dirt to you then? Chunks of earth beaten from the boots of civilized men? You've made my point then.
Narrator: The two men lock arms, testing each other's strength. Neither with apparent advantage, standing, arms entwined, pushing will all force into each other. Amos attempts to slide to his right, attempting to flip Gregor who counters as fast as a whip. Amos slips a hard elbow into Gregor's gut, sending him sprawling backwards.
Amos: That was for last time!
Gregor: It won't be happening again.
Narrator: Gregor heaves himself off the ground. Gregor charges, face forward, arm outstretched, going in for a clothesline. Amos dodges and as Gregor turns back to face him, Amos launches a flying drop kick, knocking Gregor to the mat.
Amos: I'll allow you one more chance to submit before I humiliate you further.
Gregor: Alright, I submit.
Amos: If only you were serious, you could save yourself some pain.
Narrator: Gregor springs from the mat, attempting to land a haymaker. Amos easily swerves away, grabs Gregor by the torso and flips him, lifting him overhead before slamming him down. A thunderous crash echos through out the garage. Gregor lays flat on the mat, unmoving. Dante reaches down and touches his hand. Dante flies into the ring, a flash of sparkly white lycra spandex moving in speeds only younger men can achieve.
Dante: AIIIYYYYEEEE!
Narrator: Amos simply steps aside, letting Dante crash on the ground.
Dirk: HEY REF, THEY GOT TWO GUYS IN THE RING. DQ! DQ!
Referee: I'll decide what's a disqualification and what's not. Do you got me?
Narrator: You begin bickering with him, meanwhile, Amos walks over to Gregor to make sure he's ok. Dante readies himself, latching on to Amos like he's a monkey. Amos looks back at him in disbelief.
Amos: This man may be injured, would you get off me please.
Narrator: Gregor, sensing his moment, springs up. Grabbing Amos' ankle and pulls hard. With Gregor pinning him to the ground, Dante begins to take a series of cheap shots. And just then-
Dulcie: RARF!
Narrator: Dulcie begins barking her messed-up little face off. The sight of her master under attack sends her into a frenzy. And with a single, hard shih-poo bite, muches down on Gregor's finger. He screams out in pain and lashes out, sending Delcie flying. She slams into a wall and lands into a pile. A soft whimper emanates from her body. Amos, outraged by the sight of his injured dog, heaves Gregor off of him with a great hrumph and stands, ready to annihilate. You tackle Dante and prepare your vengeance.
Dirk: What did the five fingers say to the face?
Dante: What?
Dirk: SLAP! (slap sounds can do heard) SLAP! SLAP! SLAPPITY SLAMP!
Dante: OW stop it!
Narrator: You redden his cheeks with a combo of slaps while Amos unleashes his own fury. Gregor, tossed, lifted and beaten like a sack of rice, remains helpless against Amos' onslaught. The two of you pin your opponents simultaneously.
Referee: You know what? That looks pretty good. Victory goes to Amos and Dirk. Let's hurry and get to the fun part.
Narrator: You roll off Dante and catch your breath as Amos rushes over to Dulcie's side. She snaps right back to, wags her tail, lets out a cute yip.
Amos: God help if anything happened to her.
Gregor: Well, you beaten us. Aren't you going to make us submit to you. You're supposed to fuck us now. Give us a really good pounding.
Amos: Nah, not feeling it. Especially with cheaters.
Gregor: Not even a hate fuck?
Amos: I think not. Mark, let's go to my room.
Narrator: You and Amos converse inside his bedroom. He goes back and shuts the door.
Amos: That was really wild.
Dirk: I didn't know what to expect. But it definitely wasn't that. I thought we were goners.
Amos: Honestly, so did I. The events turned in the right direction though.
Dirk: I'm just glad the match is over.
Amos: Oh it's not over.
Narrator: Your heart pounds. He suddenly sets upon you, throwing you to the bed. Pinned under his massive torso, your back flattened against the mattress, you can barely move.
Amos: New rules this time around. Loser is whoever cums first?
Dirk: OOOOOHHHHH! YEEEEAAAAHHHH! YOU KNOW, AS I WAS WALKING OVER HERE I COULDN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT ONE THING.
Both Men: ....
Dirk: ONE THING. NOW ASK ME WHAT IT WAS.
Both Men: ...
Dirk: ASK ME WHAT IT WAS?!
Dante: What was it?
Dirk: (Turns towards Gregor.) HOW CAN THIS CREATURE OVER HERE EVEN CALL HIMSELF A MAN. HOW CAN HE LOOK AT HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR EVERY MORNING WITHOUT VOMITING, WITHOUT CRYING, WITHOUT BASHING HIMSELF IN THE FACE, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING FOLKS. THIS IS NOT A MAN. THIS IS GARBAGE ON LEGS, THIS IS WALKING EXCREMENT, THE STINK ON A TOILET AFTER A HARD NIGHT OF DRINKING AND EATING QUESTIONABLE FOOD. THIS IS THE MOLDY CHEESE ON AN OLD MAN'S ROTTING DICK WHO DIED WHILE MASTURBATING.
Amos: Ok, I think that's enough. Thank-you, Dirk.
Narrator: Amos appear. His fire engine red attire, bulky in the right places.
Gregor: Hmph.
Amos: Grrr.
Narrator: A man in a striped shirt, presumably the referee, walks in after Amos.
Referee: But first, let's go over the rules of engagement so everyone's clear. No scratching, biting, eye raking, nut punching or penis pulling. No use of weaponry or foreign substances. Only one member of each team may be in the ring at one time. Any violation of the rules is an automatic disqualification. Per usual terms of the contestants, winners do with the losers as they wish. Are we all clear?
Narrator: Everyone nods.
Referee: Alright, let's head to the garage and get this party started.
Narrator: Despite your boisterous pre-match speech, you start to feel shaky. Amos notices.
Amos: Did you read the book I gave you?
Dirk: Um, no. I can't read Spanish.
Amos: Oh. Opps. I forgot about that. Just don't be nervous. That's the worst thing you can do.
Dirk: (sweating) Ok.
Given how long this thing runs, I had to cut a bunch of stuff.
Amos: Don't worry, I've got a plan. I know his weakness. I'm going to wear him down, then bring you in for the finish. Stay in the corner and wait for my tap.
Dirk: Right. I'll jump in and finish him off. I got it.
Referee: Hear ye, hear ye, ladies and gents, tonight we have a bout for the tag team championship of the world. Combined at 467 pounds, we have Amos and uh, what's your name kid?
Dirk: Dirk.
Referee: In this corner, weighing at a combined 515 pounds we have Gregor and Dante.
Narrator: Amos and Gregor approach the middle of the battle field. The ref jumps out of the way as Amos and Gregor begin circling the ring, sizing each other up.
Gregor: How strange is is this man on Earth should roam. And lead a life of woe, but not for sake. His rugged path; nor dare he view alone. His future doom is to but awake.
Amos: Rhyming? That's not an expression. That's slavery! Absurdity. All of it.
Gregor: It's neither less nor more absurd than any other language's harsh restraints. The point, though, is simple. For beauty. Something that was always lost on you.
Amos: Beauty at what cost? At the cost of freedom, you've paid too much. Words will always dance in the hands of a master. Not all words grow wings, though.
Gregor: Beauty justifies itself. Love justifies itself. Perfection seeks itself and justifies all things.
Amos: 'Perfection' - that name for something that never existed. Not anywhere on earth or above. Only in the minds of men. Only in the minds of foolish men.
Gregor: Words are nothing more than dirt to you then? Chunks of earth beaten from the boots of civilized men? You've made my point then.
Narrator: The two men lock arms, testing each other's strength. Neither with apparent advantage, standing, arms entwined, pushing will all force into each other. Amos attempts to slide to his right, attempting to flip Gregor who counters as fast as a whip. Amos slips a hard elbow into Gregor's gut, sending him sprawling backwards.
Amos: That was for last time!
Gregor: It won't be happening again.
Narrator: Gregor heaves himself off the ground. Gregor charges, face forward, arm outstretched, going in for a clothesline. Amos dodges and as Gregor turns back to face him, Amos launches a flying drop kick, knocking Gregor to the mat.
Amos: I'll allow you one more chance to submit before I humiliate you further.
Gregor: Alright, I submit.
Amos: If only you were serious, you could save yourself some pain.
Narrator: Gregor springs from the mat, attempting to land a haymaker. Amos easily swerves away, grabs Gregor by the torso and flips him, lifting him overhead before slamming him down. A thunderous crash echos through out the garage. Gregor lays flat on the mat, unmoving. Dante reaches down and touches his hand. Dante flies into the ring, a flash of sparkly white lycra spandex moving in speeds only younger men can achieve.
Dante: AIIIYYYYEEEE!
Narrator: Amos simply steps aside, letting Dante crash on the ground.
Dirk: HEY REF, THEY GOT TWO GUYS IN THE RING. DQ! DQ!
Referee: I'll decide what's a disqualification and what's not. Do you got me?
Narrator: You begin bickering with him, meanwhile, Amos walks over to Gregor to make sure he's ok. Dante readies himself, latching on to Amos like he's a monkey. Amos looks back at him in disbelief.
Amos: This man may be injured, would you get off me please.
Narrator: Gregor, sensing his moment, springs up. Grabbing Amos' ankle and pulls hard. With Gregor pinning him to the ground, Dante begins to take a series of cheap shots. And just then-
Dulcie: RARF!
Narrator: Dulcie begins barking her messed-up little face off. The sight of her master under attack sends her into a frenzy. And with a single, hard shih-poo bite, muches down on Gregor's finger. He screams out in pain and lashes out, sending Delcie flying. She slams into a wall and lands into a pile. A soft whimper emanates from her body. Amos, outraged by the sight of his injured dog, heaves Gregor off of him with a great hrumph and stands, ready to annihilate. You tackle Dante and prepare your vengeance.
Dirk: What did the five fingers say to the face?
Dante: What?
Dirk: SLAP! (slap sounds can do heard) SLAP! SLAP! SLAPPITY SLAMP!
Dante: OW stop it!
Narrator: You redden his cheeks with a combo of slaps while Amos unleashes his own fury. Gregor, tossed, lifted and beaten like a sack of rice, remains helpless against Amos' onslaught. The two of you pin your opponents simultaneously.
Referee: You know what? That looks pretty good. Victory goes to Amos and Dirk. Let's hurry and get to the fun part.
Narrator: You roll off Dante and catch your breath as Amos rushes over to Dulcie's side. She snaps right back to, wags her tail, lets out a cute yip.
Amos: God help if anything happened to her.
Gregor: Well, you beaten us. Aren't you going to make us submit to you. You're supposed to fuck us now. Give us a really good pounding.
Amos: Nah, not feeling it. Especially with cheaters.
Gregor: Not even a hate fuck?
Amos: I think not. Mark, let's go to my room.
Narrator: You and Amos converse inside his bedroom. He goes back and shuts the door.
Amos: That was really wild.
Dirk: I didn't know what to expect. But it definitely wasn't that. I thought we were goners.
Amos: Honestly, so did I. The events turned in the right direction though.
Dirk: I'm just glad the match is over.
Amos: Oh it's not over.
Narrator: Your heart pounds. He suddenly sets upon you, throwing you to the bed. Pinned under his massive torso, your back flattened against the mattress, you can barely move.
Amos: New rules this time around. Loser is whoever cums first?
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Amos: Of course we can.
Narrator: You and Amos strip off your singlets and lie in bed. You watch each other breathe deeply, feel the sweat cool off your bodies. Finally, he turns to you and wraps one arm around you. He brushes your cheek with the back of his other hand. The softness of the bed and the pleading, sincere look on Amos' face disarm you.
Adam: What are you thinking about?
Amos: You. Your face. How wonderful you look tonight.
Adam: ...
Amos: Let's stay here for a while.
Adam: Okay.
Narrator: Amos leans toward you, slow, gentle, eyes vulnerable, wanting. The look on his face commanding the same need. You move toward him, lips joining, losing yourself in the feeling. The kiss makes the rest of the world, your body, the tiredness and pain melt away, revealing the only truth you ever needed.
One Week Later...
*Snip*
Adam: I never thought I'd meet anyone like Amos, that's for sure.
Penny: Ooh, do you guys have any plans after graduation?
Adam: Maybe. He always has something planned, and it's always a surprise.
Penny: Well, enough talk. Let's hit the bars, guys.
One Year Later...
I have the feeling that the creator just decided to go balls-to-the-wall with Amos' route and enjoy the ride. There's three other endings depending on the poem and way you act: weird, mean or nice. If you go the weird path, you can get a scene where Ian will burst in and help you out during the match.
This created a headcannon where it inspired Ian to join the WWE where he becomes a beloved mid-card comedy character. (Kinda like Sanito Marello.)
Anyway, who should we do next? Phil or Ian?
Narrator: You and Amos strip off your singlets and lie in bed. You watch each other breathe deeply, feel the sweat cool off your bodies. Finally, he turns to you and wraps one arm around you. He brushes your cheek with the back of his other hand. The softness of the bed and the pleading, sincere look on Amos' face disarm you.
Adam: What are you thinking about?
Amos: You. Your face. How wonderful you look tonight.
Adam: ...
Amos: Let's stay here for a while.
Adam: Okay.
Narrator: Amos leans toward you, slow, gentle, eyes vulnerable, wanting. The look on his face commanding the same need. You move toward him, lips joining, losing yourself in the feeling. The kiss makes the rest of the world, your body, the tiredness and pain melt away, revealing the only truth you ever needed.
One Week Later...
*Snip*
Adam: I never thought I'd meet anyone like Amos, that's for sure.
Penny: Ooh, do you guys have any plans after graduation?
Adam: Maybe. He always has something planned, and it's always a surprise.
Penny: Well, enough talk. Let's hit the bars, guys.
One Year Later...
Narrator: Hanging out with Amos post-match one day, the two of you begin talking about the enormous opportunity that sex-wrestling presents. Convinced you stumbled upon a million dollar idea, you and he start a chain of sex wrestling clubs. You name the company Sex Bomb Worldwide and take your fetish international.
Narrator: With in two years, the company grows to 400 locations across the globe. On the third anniversary of Sex Bomb Worldwide, you host a party that quickly descends into the world's largest (and best) orgy ever. You and Amos look over to the crowd and wave, triumphant, as you bang the living hell out of each other.
Narrator: With in two years, the company grows to 400 locations across the globe. On the third anniversary of Sex Bomb Worldwide, you host a party that quickly descends into the world's largest (and best) orgy ever. You and Amos look over to the crowd and wave, triumphant, as you bang the living hell out of each other.
I have the feeling that the creator just decided to go balls-to-the-wall with Amos' route and enjoy the ride. There's three other endings depending on the poem and way you act: weird, mean or nice. If you go the weird path, you can get a scene where Ian will burst in and help you out during the match.
This created a headcannon where it inspired Ian to join the WWE where he becomes a beloved mid-card comedy character. (Kinda like Sanito Marello.)
Anyway, who should we do next? Phil or Ian?
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
To continue with Ian's route we need to get those ladies to agree with us. So we'll jump to where you're successful.
Brunette: We actually haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Molly and this is Holly.
Holly: (crosses arms) My name actually is Holly. Molly, on the other hand, is going to be changing her name back to Margret. Like tomorrow.
Molly: And why would I do that? Molly is my birth name.
Holly: Molly is short for Margret.
Molly: Holly, have I ever told you the only reason I let you hang around is because you're a less hot version of me?
Holly: Bitch, that's why I hang out with you!
Ian: (rolls eyes) Wow, this party is really something.
Holly: Are you kidding? This party blows.
Molly: We walk in and the first thing we see is two girls tongue wrestling in the kitchen, ogled by a bunch of knuckleheads.
Ian: I know, right? What's that about? Fucking particarhal bullshit. Women should have the right to be drooling knuckleheads too.
Molly: Ok, that's a perspective. I guess.
Narrator: Ian steps towards you, his face full of purpose.
Ian: Dude, c'mere!
Adam: What are you doing, Ian? Leave me out of this!
Narrator: Ian pulls the back of your head and plants a kiss on your lips, covering your muffled gasp with his mouth. You're seized by panic and then confusion. You feel the kiss, a mix of hot breath and his warm mouth, tasting sweetly of punch, go straight to your legs. You never expected Ian to be a good kisser, damn. You pull away from each other. You feel unsteady.
Adam: (blushing) The hell, Ian!
Holly: Well, that's different.
Molly: You know, I'm so over this party. You boys wanna get outta here?
Narrator: Ian seems oblivious to the question, his eyes drilling into you in a way that makes your cheeks burn. He looks a little shaken.
Molly: Hey, Punchbowl, let's go to your guys' place.
Narrator: Ian straightens up as if he was slapped.
Ian: Our place? Oh yeah, okay.
Narrator: You, Ian, Molly and Holly walk over to the apartment in awkward silence. The sobering cold air bites at your skin, but all you can think about is the taste of Ian's mouth still fresh on your lips. The four of you spill into your apartment.
Adam: So, um, you guys wanna play a board game?
Holly: Actually, no. I'm horny as fuck.
Adam: On vote, no.
Holly: Where's your room, Punchbowl?
Ian: Erm, down the hall.
Narrator: Holly follows Ian down the hall.
Molly: You seem like kind of a dork, Adam, but at least you've got a nice body. Why don't we get a look at the goods?
Adam: (sweating) ...
Molly: Just take your shirt off, at least. That's not a big deal, right?
Adam: Well, um...
Molly: What are you, twelve? It's just sex. Don't be such a prude.
Adam: Uh, hey, did I mention I have a goldfish? His name's Steve. Do you want to meet him?
Molly: I'm going to join my friend. Nothing personal. (she walks off.)
Narrator: (he's in his bed room) You lie down, closing your eyes. You try not to imagine what's happening on the other side of the wall. A bed squeak, a cough, lowered voices, a soft, feminine moan. When you hear the springs start singing, your eyes lift open. A sigh. Probably Ian's. You throw your arm over your eyes, shielding your eyes.
Holly: (crosses arms) My name actually is Holly. Molly, on the other hand, is going to be changing her name back to Margret. Like tomorrow.
Molly: And why would I do that? Molly is my birth name.
Holly: Molly is short for Margret.
Molly: Holly, have I ever told you the only reason I let you hang around is because you're a less hot version of me?
Holly: Bitch, that's why I hang out with you!
Ian: (rolls eyes) Wow, this party is really something.
Holly: Are you kidding? This party blows.
Molly: We walk in and the first thing we see is two girls tongue wrestling in the kitchen, ogled by a bunch of knuckleheads.
Ian: I know, right? What's that about? Fucking particarhal bullshit. Women should have the right to be drooling knuckleheads too.
Molly: Ok, that's a perspective. I guess.
Narrator: Ian steps towards you, his face full of purpose.
Ian: Dude, c'mere!
Adam: What are you doing, Ian? Leave me out of this!
Narrator: Ian pulls the back of your head and plants a kiss on your lips, covering your muffled gasp with his mouth. You're seized by panic and then confusion. You feel the kiss, a mix of hot breath and his warm mouth, tasting sweetly of punch, go straight to your legs. You never expected Ian to be a good kisser, damn. You pull away from each other. You feel unsteady.
Adam: (blushing) The hell, Ian!
Holly: Well, that's different.
Molly: You know, I'm so over this party. You boys wanna get outta here?
Narrator: Ian seems oblivious to the question, his eyes drilling into you in a way that makes your cheeks burn. He looks a little shaken.
Molly: Hey, Punchbowl, let's go to your guys' place.
Narrator: Ian straightens up as if he was slapped.
Ian: Our place? Oh yeah, okay.
Narrator: You, Ian, Molly and Holly walk over to the apartment in awkward silence. The sobering cold air bites at your skin, but all you can think about is the taste of Ian's mouth still fresh on your lips. The four of you spill into your apartment.
Adam: So, um, you guys wanna play a board game?
Holly: Actually, no. I'm horny as fuck.
Adam: On vote, no.
Holly: Where's your room, Punchbowl?
Ian: Erm, down the hall.
Narrator: Holly follows Ian down the hall.
Molly: You seem like kind of a dork, Adam, but at least you've got a nice body. Why don't we get a look at the goods?
Adam: (sweating) ...
Molly: Just take your shirt off, at least. That's not a big deal, right?
Adam: Well, um...
Molly: What are you, twelve? It's just sex. Don't be such a prude.
Adam: Uh, hey, did I mention I have a goldfish? His name's Steve. Do you want to meet him?
Molly: I'm going to join my friend. Nothing personal. (she walks off.)
Narrator: (he's in his bed room) You lie down, closing your eyes. You try not to imagine what's happening on the other side of the wall. A bed squeak, a cough, lowered voices, a soft, feminine moan. When you hear the springs start singing, your eyes lift open. A sigh. Probably Ian's. You throw your arm over your eyes, shielding your eyes.
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Narrator: The moaning increases in frequency and pitch. You put your ear to the wall, timing your breaths like a sniper in order to make out every sound.
Holly: I'll say this. You're got one good-looking cock. Nice and thick.
Molly: Gez, Holly. Stop hogging it already. Punchbowl, get on your back.
Ian: Wait! Wait! ... Oh God...
Adam: (thinking) What is wrong with me? Stop eavesdropping!
Narrator: Pulse racing, you listen anyway. You hear a series of purrs and sighs, punctuated by the squeaking of bed springs. Goosebumps ripple your body, and in spite of yourself, your dick awakens and begins its transformation.
Holly: I'll say this. You're got one good-looking cock. Nice and thick.
Molly: Gez, Holly. Stop hogging it already. Punchbowl, get on your back.
Ian: Wait! Wait! ... Oh God...
Adam: (thinking) What is wrong with me? Stop eavesdropping!
Narrator: Pulse racing, you listen anyway. You hear a series of purrs and sighs, punctuated by the squeaking of bed springs. Goosebumps ripple your body, and in spite of yourself, your dick awakens and begins its transformation.
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2014
Narrator: Despite feeling like a massive pervert, you can't seems to tear your ear away from the wall. You grab your dick, stroking it furiously each time you hear Ian groan.
Holly: Oh yeah! Fuck me harder! Harder!
Ian: Ah! Shit, I'm coming!
Adam: Ahh... (thinking) Oh. Christ! Jesus on a stick.)
There's a screen of the fishbowl and jizz being sprayed on it before if falls off.
Holly: Oh yeah! Fuck me harder! Harder!
Ian: Ah! Shit, I'm coming!
Adam: Ahh... (thinking) Oh. Christ! Jesus on a stick.)
There's a screen of the fishbowl and jizz being sprayed on it before if falls off.
Narrator: After an uncomfortable night, you awaken to the sound of raised voices.
Penny: I didn't sign up to live in a brothel, Ian!
Ian: Look, I'm sorry, okay? The ladies love my technique.
Penny: Spare me. Ally I heard last night was YOU.
Narrator: Throwing on some clothes and fighting a throbbing headache, you drag yourself into the living room. Ian's eyes meet yours as you enter the living room. Something about the way he looks at you makes your face grow warm. Flustered, you avert your eyes.
Adam: Where are Molly and Holly?
Penny: Their names were Holly AND Molly? You're kidding me, right?
Ian: They left a few hours ago.
Penny: I can't believe you scored The Moaner had a threesome last night. Ian, you owe Adam big time.
Ian: Well, duh, that's why I'm winging for Adam this Friday.
Penny: You? A wingman? It's not too late to back out, Adam!
Adam: Well, midterms are coming up. Hang on, I gotta think about whether this fits my schedule.
