Thick, Fabulous Thighs: Difference between revisions

However the mind of the Brachialis' king, or Flexor, was corrupted by greed and thirst for more power and more gargantuan abs. Out of both pure fear and venom, the Flexor ordered his army to collect all the first and last born of the, so called, 'faggotscucks' shacks and tents. Cries of mothers and the rumble of their quads can be heard throughout the night, as meaty-legged children of all ages were thrown into the raging river filled with predators and thorns. The Flexor's people felt haven't a qualm.

It all started normally, the Brachialis tending their cattle before the clouds darkened. A storm raged within seconds, bench presses and pull up bars brittled and rusted, and once perfect abs and arms fattened into flappy waxy imperfections. The Flexor was furious, he demanded war against the man, the faggotscucks cheered for the empire's threat.

The Flexor orders the genocide of all 'faggotscucks'. Crowds rush out the streets as soldiers once again chased them. They stop at the raging river, the man lifts his leg and stomps the shore. The water and rocks obeyed his command and rise up to reveal the secret path. The escapes ran through the moist mud with, but the sound of the oppressors were near. When every legger made it through, the man stomps his foot again, the waves crash into the army who were unable of catch up due to their pathetic calves.