Post by Andrew Stone on Dec 27, 2020 23:52:02 GMT -5
Rated F for Filthy.
Chapter One: Introductions are needed. Kinda.
Before I go any further, I guess I should introduce myself. Why? Well because introductions are needed. Kinda. At least in this case because nobody in A dub knows who the fuck I am.
Hi there! I’m Andrew. I’m a twenty five year old gemini who likes cocaine and pussy. I’m also the worst nightmare to everyone on the roster. While you fools run around being wrestlers, I’m a fucking ninja. Really. I sneak up on people and kill them. It’s true. So be…afraid. Or don’t. I don’t give a fuck……never have and probably never will. Oh God. I’m rambling aren’t I? I fucking hate ramblers. Like Sylvester what’s his name? The guy I’m gonna be beating till he loves me in my debut. Yeah, I saw your little interview a couple weeks back. You’re just sooooooo fucking boring. Seriously. I would have fallen asleep if I hadn't also been getting a blowjob. I admit. I have no idea what your name is. I don't care either. All I have to say or ask rather, is could you try not to be so fucking boring? It's like you talk and probably fuck in monotone. I can see it now. You're with your lady. Or man. I'm not judging. And you're going at it, right? And they say "Fuck me harder, Simon!" And youre just all like NO but in complete monotone. So since I don't know your name, you will now be "generic wrestler number one". I've never fought a generic wrestler before. But I guess there's a first time for everything, right? Right. Now onto the show!
Chapter one: Go big or go home
Blossom was a classy strip club on Liberty Avenue. It was owned by a twisted as fuck man named Jack Crenshaw. I’d been working for that sick fuck for ten years. At first I was just a dope boy. I delivered the goods to the next seller..the street guy. It was good money but not as much as working at the strip club.
I was a bouncer of sorts. It was my job to make sure no funny business went on. Let me tell you…There was a lot of funny business that went on. You know the stuff, right? I’m talking about drunk bastards who would get grabby when they drank too much. There were even times when some dumbass who owed Jack money would walk in. It was my job to handle those situations. I don’t mean to brag but I was good at my job.
Blossom was a classy place. There was one long stage that ran almost the entire length of main room. There were cages in each of the four corners we’re women danced. The DJ was in the back and unseen. This was to get as many girls on the floor as possible.
Blossom was a full nude place. That meant that the girls could completely strip. Normally this wouldn’t be allowed if the place sold liquor but Jack didn’t give a fuck. He did what he wanted. Not sure how.
Id ran home to put on a nice suit. I only had one. It was charcoal grey and I only wore it to the club. I had to look nice even if I got into fights every night. “Go big or go home.”, is what I always said.
It was about eleven pm when I got there. I could hear the music from a block away. It was Genuine's Slow Motion.
I opened the door and went immediately to the bathroom. I was a skier if you know what I mean. And I needed my fix. The bathrooms were immaculate. They were black with gold trimmings. There were four stalls and three urinals. The lights were bright as if the fucking surface of the sun was that exact bathroom.
I was alone, so I reached into my pocket for my bag of dust. It was a gift from the gods if there ever was one. I quickly poured a little out on the sink, lined it up, and snorted it down with a rolled up dollar bill. Oh what a fucking rush! If you’d never done blow before, I highly suggest it. The feeling I got made me want to just start running and never stop. It heightened my senses. I swear I could hear a fly thinking.
I had a few things I’d need to do before work every night. I had to get my dick wet. And then I had to do my blow. I hadn’t gotten my dick wet before work. That bothered me. It made everything feel wrong but the blow made things better. I’d hit up one of the strippers after closing, get my dick in some poon, and call it a night. That was the plan at least.
I walked out of that bathroom with swagger even Muhammed Ali would be jealous of. I was a fucking lion and Blossom was my seringetti plain. I was King dick in that fucking place.
But as I walked back to the floor, something caught my eye. Call it me thinking with my other head, but Cherrie's ass was something I had to touch.
Cherries was a short redhead with perky tits and an ass made for grabbing. If blow was a gift from God, that ass was the devil's curse. Her face looked like an innocent preachers daughter. Everybody knows that preachers daughter are whores. They'd look all sweet sitting there at church but she’s giving you a handy under your Bible.
She wore a tight white dress that hugged every curve on her body. She looked amazing. I was horny. Fuck it.
“Cherrie! Looking fine A. F. Tonight, baby.”, I yelled over.
She stopped at the door to the back and turned around. She wore a smile on that pretty face of hers.
“Hey, Handsome.”, She said.
Her voice made my pen15 tingle. It was girly, yet seductive.
“You wanna go in the bathroom right quick? I didn’t eat today and you looking tasty.”, I said as I walked over to her.
She blushed. Her face was damn near as red as her hair.
“Id love to but Jacks looking for you. I get off at one. Meet me in the alley?”, She said.
Her eyes drifted toward my crotch. She bit her lower lip. I winked.
“Ill be there, sexy.”
Chaper 2: He’s insane I tell you!
Jacks office was on a separate floor that overlooked the main dancing area. He liked to see everything that went on. The guy was a total control freak.
Inside that office was a huge fish tank where a few small sharks swam. It was very dark and decorated with dark furniture. There was a couch in the right corner. There was a black chair that sat in front of his desk. On the opposite wall was the fish tank.
He was a large man. He stood at least six foot five with a frame only Hulk Hogan would rival. I’m not sure why never got his hands dirty, but I’d always assumed it was due to some sort of power and control issue.
He sat behind his desk and stood up when I walked in.
“Hey boss!”, I said with a smile as I walked into the office. It was fucking freezing in there. My nipples got hard and my nuts went into hiding.
“Ahh! There you are, Andrew! I’ve been waiting for you! Would you like a drink?”, He asked.
I looked at what he was drinking. Thick. Red. Looked like blood. Was probably blood. Nope!
“No sir. I’m good. You go right ahead.”, I said as I took a seat.
Jack, who was large, in charge, and balding, took a drink of the red shit from the glass. It left a stain which basically confirmed my fears. It was blood. But I knew that so it shouldn’t have been suprising. The batshit crazy motherfucker thought that drinking the blood of his enemies granted him their powers. I didn’t buy it. Dude is just insane.
“Andrew, did you happen to stop and look at our guests as you rushed to the bathroom?”, He asked.
I shrugged.
“John Pendleton is at table one.”, He said.
I waited for him to finish but the crazy bastard looked at me like he expected me to know just who in the fresh hell John Pendleton was. I didn’t.
“The motherfucker thinks he can come to my joint when he owes me money? I want his fucking guts laid out across my desk!”, He said in a huff.
Now, I want to make sure the point got across. Jack wanted this guy’s actual guts laid out on his desk. He once told me that he wanted to eat one guys fingers, so I just cut the dudes fingers off with a butter knife. Jack lost his fucking shit when I told him I didn’t keep the fingers. He legit wanted to eat this dudes fingers. Imagine my disgust at hearing he wanted this dudes guts. Actually, don’t. I’d love to do it. I could pretend John is generic wrestler one. Who cares about that clowns name? He’d be getting his ass handed in during our match anyway. I said I was gonna beat that motherfucker till he love me. I might be a piece of shit but I ain’t a liar.
“Alright. What’s he look like?”, I asked.
“He’s old and fat. Wears a dirty track suit. I want him fucking dead!”, He yelled as he sat down.
“Alright. Fuck it.”, I said as I left the office.
Chapter Three: what was I saying again?
To Whom is may concern,
Hello. I'm Andrew. I'm the new guy in the dub. Yes. That one! Now I'm not sure who makes the matches. It must have been that re re looking dude I met when I signed the contract. Only a guy who looks like he shouldnt be holding sharp objects could have signed this thing. Now, before I go into that, I have to apologize. I had to cut my video short in editing. It was too long. Who the hell decides video length? Probably the same re re dude who signs the matches. Anyway. I have to question why I'd be against a guy who basically acts like a bad CAW. Like. One of the premade ones in those games. The ones who have no character and are just so damn boring. Just looks like a bunch of bullshit thrown together. Announced is all like "Now introducing. From borington, Australia! Um. Kevin." You know, on a night where I can't sleep, I usually put on one of this dude's videos. And it's just lights out. Don't the fans deserve better? Didn't those plebs pay for entertainment? I'm Andrew Fucking Stone. The Filth Lord! The hottest debut in A dub history and I'm put against a monotonous generic motherfucker named Sam? Really? Come on man! I deserve better. Those idiots who pay to watch grown men and hot bitches slap each other around deserve better. This dude is the beer break. He's the guy you throw out there to increase drink sales on a nightly basis. And baby, money is good!
I should be fighting that old guy I've seen. What's his name? Carlton Black? You know. The champ? Or maybe Harry Black. Are they related? Both guys look like they come from incestuous relationships. They look like brothers who have an uncle daddy and an auntie momma is what I'm trying to say. Anybody but this randomized CAW Kevin looking and sounding motherfucker. Seriously. Anyway. I'm still gonna murder his ass. Really. I might just get tired of the boredom and just end this dude's whole fucking life. I'm the best. Believe dat. Or don't. I don't care. Im getting high anyway.
With love,
Andrew
PS. I hate you.
Chapter One: Introductions are needed. Kinda.
Before I go any further, I guess I should introduce myself. Why? Well because introductions are needed. Kinda. At least in this case because nobody in A dub knows who the fuck I am.
Hi there! I’m Andrew. I’m a twenty five year old gemini who likes cocaine and pussy. I’m also the worst nightmare to everyone on the roster. While you fools run around being wrestlers, I’m a fucking ninja. Really. I sneak up on people and kill them. It’s true. So be…afraid. Or don’t. I don’t give a fuck……never have and probably never will. Oh God. I’m rambling aren’t I? I fucking hate ramblers. Like Sylvester what’s his name? The guy I’m gonna be beating till he loves me in my debut. Yeah, I saw your little interview a couple weeks back. You’re just sooooooo fucking boring. Seriously. I would have fallen asleep if I hadn't also been getting a blowjob. I admit. I have no idea what your name is. I don't care either. All I have to say or ask rather, is could you try not to be so fucking boring? It's like you talk and probably fuck in monotone. I can see it now. You're with your lady. Or man. I'm not judging. And you're going at it, right? And they say "Fuck me harder, Simon!" And youre just all like NO but in complete monotone. So since I don't know your name, you will now be "generic wrestler number one". I've never fought a generic wrestler before. But I guess there's a first time for everything, right? Right. Now onto the show!
Chapter one: Go big or go home
Blossom was a classy strip club on Liberty Avenue. It was owned by a twisted as fuck man named Jack Crenshaw. I’d been working for that sick fuck for ten years. At first I was just a dope boy. I delivered the goods to the next seller..the street guy. It was good money but not as much as working at the strip club.
I was a bouncer of sorts. It was my job to make sure no funny business went on. Let me tell you…There was a lot of funny business that went on. You know the stuff, right? I’m talking about drunk bastards who would get grabby when they drank too much. There were even times when some dumbass who owed Jack money would walk in. It was my job to handle those situations. I don’t mean to brag but I was good at my job.
Blossom was a classy place. There was one long stage that ran almost the entire length of main room. There were cages in each of the four corners we’re women danced. The DJ was in the back and unseen. This was to get as many girls on the floor as possible.
Blossom was a full nude place. That meant that the girls could completely strip. Normally this wouldn’t be allowed if the place sold liquor but Jack didn’t give a fuck. He did what he wanted. Not sure how.
Id ran home to put on a nice suit. I only had one. It was charcoal grey and I only wore it to the club. I had to look nice even if I got into fights every night. “Go big or go home.”, is what I always said.
It was about eleven pm when I got there. I could hear the music from a block away. It was Genuine's Slow Motion.
I opened the door and went immediately to the bathroom. I was a skier if you know what I mean. And I needed my fix. The bathrooms were immaculate. They were black with gold trimmings. There were four stalls and three urinals. The lights were bright as if the fucking surface of the sun was that exact bathroom.
I was alone, so I reached into my pocket for my bag of dust. It was a gift from the gods if there ever was one. I quickly poured a little out on the sink, lined it up, and snorted it down with a rolled up dollar bill. Oh what a fucking rush! If you’d never done blow before, I highly suggest it. The feeling I got made me want to just start running and never stop. It heightened my senses. I swear I could hear a fly thinking.
I had a few things I’d need to do before work every night. I had to get my dick wet. And then I had to do my blow. I hadn’t gotten my dick wet before work. That bothered me. It made everything feel wrong but the blow made things better. I’d hit up one of the strippers after closing, get my dick in some poon, and call it a night. That was the plan at least.
I walked out of that bathroom with swagger even Muhammed Ali would be jealous of. I was a fucking lion and Blossom was my seringetti plain. I was King dick in that fucking place.
But as I walked back to the floor, something caught my eye. Call it me thinking with my other head, but Cherrie's ass was something I had to touch.
Cherries was a short redhead with perky tits and an ass made for grabbing. If blow was a gift from God, that ass was the devil's curse. Her face looked like an innocent preachers daughter. Everybody knows that preachers daughter are whores. They'd look all sweet sitting there at church but she’s giving you a handy under your Bible.
She wore a tight white dress that hugged every curve on her body. She looked amazing. I was horny. Fuck it.
“Cherrie! Looking fine A. F. Tonight, baby.”, I yelled over.
She stopped at the door to the back and turned around. She wore a smile on that pretty face of hers.
“Hey, Handsome.”, She said.
Her voice made my pen15 tingle. It was girly, yet seductive.
“You wanna go in the bathroom right quick? I didn’t eat today and you looking tasty.”, I said as I walked over to her.
She blushed. Her face was damn near as red as her hair.
“Id love to but Jacks looking for you. I get off at one. Meet me in the alley?”, She said.
Her eyes drifted toward my crotch. She bit her lower lip. I winked.
“Ill be there, sexy.”
Chaper 2: He’s insane I tell you!
Jacks office was on a separate floor that overlooked the main dancing area. He liked to see everything that went on. The guy was a total control freak.
Inside that office was a huge fish tank where a few small sharks swam. It was very dark and decorated with dark furniture. There was a couch in the right corner. There was a black chair that sat in front of his desk. On the opposite wall was the fish tank.
He was a large man. He stood at least six foot five with a frame only Hulk Hogan would rival. I’m not sure why never got his hands dirty, but I’d always assumed it was due to some sort of power and control issue.
He sat behind his desk and stood up when I walked in.
“Hey boss!”, I said with a smile as I walked into the office. It was fucking freezing in there. My nipples got hard and my nuts went into hiding.
“Ahh! There you are, Andrew! I’ve been waiting for you! Would you like a drink?”, He asked.
I looked at what he was drinking. Thick. Red. Looked like blood. Was probably blood. Nope!
“No sir. I’m good. You go right ahead.”, I said as I took a seat.
Jack, who was large, in charge, and balding, took a drink of the red shit from the glass. It left a stain which basically confirmed my fears. It was blood. But I knew that so it shouldn’t have been suprising. The batshit crazy motherfucker thought that drinking the blood of his enemies granted him their powers. I didn’t buy it. Dude is just insane.
“Andrew, did you happen to stop and look at our guests as you rushed to the bathroom?”, He asked.
I shrugged.
“John Pendleton is at table one.”, He said.
I waited for him to finish but the crazy bastard looked at me like he expected me to know just who in the fresh hell John Pendleton was. I didn’t.
“The motherfucker thinks he can come to my joint when he owes me money? I want his fucking guts laid out across my desk!”, He said in a huff.
Now, I want to make sure the point got across. Jack wanted this guy’s actual guts laid out on his desk. He once told me that he wanted to eat one guys fingers, so I just cut the dudes fingers off with a butter knife. Jack lost his fucking shit when I told him I didn’t keep the fingers. He legit wanted to eat this dudes fingers. Imagine my disgust at hearing he wanted this dudes guts. Actually, don’t. I’d love to do it. I could pretend John is generic wrestler one. Who cares about that clowns name? He’d be getting his ass handed in during our match anyway. I said I was gonna beat that motherfucker till he love me. I might be a piece of shit but I ain’t a liar.
“Alright. What’s he look like?”, I asked.
“He’s old and fat. Wears a dirty track suit. I want him fucking dead!”, He yelled as he sat down.
“Alright. Fuck it.”, I said as I left the office.
Chapter Three: what was I saying again?
To Whom is may concern,
Hello. I'm Andrew. I'm the new guy in the dub. Yes. That one! Now I'm not sure who makes the matches. It must have been that re re looking dude I met when I signed the contract. Only a guy who looks like he shouldnt be holding sharp objects could have signed this thing. Now, before I go into that, I have to apologize. I had to cut my video short in editing. It was too long. Who the hell decides video length? Probably the same re re dude who signs the matches. Anyway. I have to question why I'd be against a guy who basically acts like a bad CAW. Like. One of the premade ones in those games. The ones who have no character and are just so damn boring. Just looks like a bunch of bullshit thrown together. Announced is all like "Now introducing. From borington, Australia! Um. Kevin." You know, on a night where I can't sleep, I usually put on one of this dude's videos. And it's just lights out. Don't the fans deserve better? Didn't those plebs pay for entertainment? I'm Andrew Fucking Stone. The Filth Lord! The hottest debut in A dub history and I'm put against a monotonous generic motherfucker named Sam? Really? Come on man! I deserve better. Those idiots who pay to watch grown men and hot bitches slap each other around deserve better. This dude is the beer break. He's the guy you throw out there to increase drink sales on a nightly basis. And baby, money is good!
I should be fighting that old guy I've seen. What's his name? Carlton Black? You know. The champ? Or maybe Harry Black. Are they related? Both guys look like they come from incestuous relationships. They look like brothers who have an uncle daddy and an auntie momma is what I'm trying to say. Anybody but this randomized CAW Kevin looking and sounding motherfucker. Seriously. Anyway. I'm still gonna murder his ass. Really. I might just get tired of the boredom and just end this dude's whole fucking life. I'm the best. Believe dat. Or don't. I don't care. Im getting high anyway.
With love,
Andrew
PS. I hate you.