A Frat Fairy Tale About Tubbs Closing On A Dimepiece

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Nice Move

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Once upon a time, there was a magical land known as State. It was a place where well-to-do young men could walk across campus and view as much female form as they wanted to, from the sun dresses and bikinis of summer to the well-designed leggings of winter which left nothing to the imagination. For most of these gentlemen, it was a place full of fruit ripe for picking. The noble houses, in particular, benefitted from the fine crop of maidens. Alpha, the ruling house, had a number of men who were capable of frothing loins with a simple flash of a credit card and a promise of free spirituous beverages. However, Alpha had a black sheep. His name was Wesley Prince, but everyone just called him Tubbs.

Tubbs was the descendant of a fine family that went back many generations in Alpha. His grandfather had practically ruled the land as a stellar offensive lineman, and his father was president and an intramural superstar. For Tubbs, supplementing his first baseman skills with wonders like the Xbox and Hot Pockets did not benefit his genetics. He was a child of frozen pizza and Call of Duty, and the discovery of Natural Light in his teenage years had only expanded his stature. It was rumored that his presence in Alpha was based only on his lineage, but the fact of the matter was that Tubbs was a downright fun guy. Indeed, his brothers loved Tubbs unconditionally, but the fairer sex found his humorous nature only endearing. He was a modern Samwell Tarly, and he just couldn’t find a Gilly.

On a beautiful midday in June, the brothers of Alpha House were throwing their annual Trainer-bros and Poke-hoes day party. Tubbs was in the middle of a fifth of Evan and truly in the spirit of things. As he attempted to bust an incredibly sweet dance move (The Baby-Maker), he was bumped from behind and accidentally spilled a puddle of whiskey on the ground. He turned about, prepared to tell whichever asshole had just cost him a dollar fifty to piss off, and instead saw a petite Pikachu with a lovely set of cheeks spinning to face him.

“I’m sooo sorry! Did I spill on you?”

“Uh, no. It’s fine. My name is Tubbs, but you’re making me an Erect-abuzz.”

It was a line that would go down in history.

“Oh em gee! That’s so funny. I’m Sarah.”

Thanks to the magic of Franzia, Tubbs was speaking to a dime. And it was working.

As the alcohol continued to flow, the conversation went from small talk to shameless flirting. Sarah began aggressively rubbing her shapely hindquarters against Tubbs’ genitals, and it seemed like a miracle was on its way to happening. Passersby looked on with awe, unsure of how something like this could happen outside of a fictional realm on a comedy site. However, as is always the case when things look their brightest, trouble was brewing.

Monstrous Mary, a “woman” who dwarfed even Tubbs in girth, had spotted her sister violently grinding on young Prince. Her brow furrowed with the look of a woman who only gets porked when there’s barbecue sauce involved. In her mind, an abyss that only entertained thoughts of gravy biscuits and self-loathing, Mary decided that if she wasn’t getting any then neither would anyone else (a rule that, if applied universally, would lead to human extinction in a matter of decades). She stormed towards Tubbs, who was preoccupied with being pinky deep in a Pikachu, and prepared to unleash hell. Tubbs looked up from the task at hand to see her massive form descending on him, and a scream of terror caught in his throat. Sarah, well aware of her sister’s tendency for jealousy, began looking for a way out.

As Mary continued her lumbering approach, her foot caught the liquor Tubbs had spilled and she overbalanced. The size of her back boobs coupled with a costume shell quickly pulled her towards the ground, and she found herself prone in a puddle of booze. The ogre had fallen, and much like the Blastoise she was dressed as, she couldn’t find a way to her feet.

Sarah acted quickly, dragging Tubbs away from the scene of the fall.

“Let’s go somewhere else. I can’t stand her.”

“How about upstairs? I have a sweet fish tank.”

Sarah cocked an eyebrow and gave her knight in chubby armor a nod.

Party guests who were there claim to hear “PIKA!” for the next five minutes as the house nearly shook off its foundation. When the two came back down the stairs, Sarah had a noticeable limp and Tubbs had a smile the size of Texas. They stepped over Mary, still frantically flailing on the ground, and returned to the day’s festivities. Sarah, stunned at the force of Tubbs’ prowess, continued to text him in the following weeks while Tubbs, stunned at the fact that she would make sex with him, responded and continued to slip her the dragon.

All was finally right for Tubbs in his kingdom, and the two of them lived happily ever after until she gained five pounds and started complaining too much when he played Madden with the guys.

Karl Karlson is TFM's self-proclaimed cartoon expert and your best buddy. He resides in the mountains of NC where he wrestles black bears and attempts to grow a beard. Karl gave up liquor following an unfortunate incident involving tequila and a vacuum cleaner, but he isn't above a nice stout on the porch.

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