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Posted at 1:21 am on Sep 7, 2017 by: Botch Recliner (Soon-To-Be Champion)
EARLY BOY DOMES, PUNTS TO DOME, WHAT TIME IT IS!

Botch had no clue what the hell Alex was talking about. Bladder? Gunther? Present? "HUH?" However, because he always had to pee, something Alex thought probably needed to be addressed by a doctor as soon as they returned to their time, Botch did exactly as Alex hoped for. He believed Gunther was a urinal as his mouth was wide open while singing. Standing over Gunther, Botch's already leaking micro penis started soaking Gunther's mullet wig with a hard stream of piss.






Alex cheered Botch on as the wig perked up further and the energy surging from the Absolute Undisputed Championship increased. And then Botch fell asleep. For another decade. The belt's energy immediately began to decrease as the flow of urine was reduced to a dribble again.

"WAKE UP!" Alex screamed repeatedly from across the ring to no avail. He was unable to physically reach Botch due to the constant increase of crabs.

Hearing moaning, he looked just in time to see Chane and Staphanie cumming together. At the same time, they both let out loud farts, shooting out a dual wave of crabs from their asses.

Alex held his breathe as the crabs went over his head. He kicked his legs furiously to return to the surface. Feeling an itch in his nose, he jammed a finger up one nostril to drag out a crab leg. Shuddering in disgust, he tossed it back into the Great Crab Sea.

Throughout all this, even after being pissed on in the crabs, Gunther continued his concert. The crabs seemed to dance to his music anyway.

In the middle his 1,003rd song of the concert, sharp, unending feedback occurred. The high-pitched sound almost completely cleared the ring of crabs and also woke Botch up with another "HUH?". His pissing automatically continued, instantly reigniting the Absolute belt's energy, which was still in Alex's hands.






The energy of the belt began to change, shooting off bolts of electricity that were as strong as lightning. One bolt struck Chane and Staph, still fucking. More cum and crabs sprayed everywhere and their bodies were pried apart, flying in opposite directions into the sea of crabs. The belt was quickly growing hotter in Alex's hands, but he knew he couldn't let go, not if he wanted out of that hellish future.

The energy had changed because of Botch's thoughts. Not thoughts of their time in the past, but of dick dogs. Since dick dogs were no longer readily available, unless you wanted one made with a crab substitute, the Absolute Undisputed Championship removed Alex, Gunther, Botch, and itself from the future in a blinding flash of light.





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