Post by colossus on Jan 29, 2024 23:26:41 GMT -5
In the dimly lit gym, the colossal figure known as Colossus stood alone, surrounded by the echoes of clanging weights and the distant hum of exercise machines. His massive frame, built like a fortress, betrayed a vulnerability that few could perceive. In his colossal hands, he held a picture – a small, cherished photograph of Brooke Blakely.
Colossus gazed at the image, studying every detail with a mixture of admiration and self-doubt. Brooke, the epitome of grace and beauty, seemed to radiate confidence and strength. A stark contrast to Colossus' own perceived flaws. He couldn't shake the feeling that a woman like her could never be interested in someone like him – someone overweight and out of shape.
The gym had become Colossus' sanctuary, a place where he sought solace and redemption. As he continued to scrutinize the photograph, a flicker of determination sparked in his eyes. No longer content with being the perceived underdog, he decided to transform his insecurity into motivation. The desire to impress Brooke became the driving force behind his relentless workouts and grueling training sessions.
Each drop of sweat that fell from Colossus' brow seemed like a small sacrifice on the path to self-improvement. He envisioned himself shedding the weight, sculpting his body into a symbol of power and confidence. The harsh clinks of weights being lifted and the rhythmic thuds of his footsteps on the treadmill echoed his dedication.
As weeks turned into months, Colossus transformed. His once heavy frame began to sculpt into a powerful physique, muscles defining his every move. The gym, once a place of refuge, became a proving ground for his determination and resilience.
Yet, the image of Brooke Blakely continued to haunt him, a reminder of the unattainable goal that drove him forward. Colossus was aware that the path he had chosen was not just about self-improvement; it was about proving a point. He wanted to make Brooke see him differently – not as a fat, out-of-shape man, but as someone who could command respect and admiration.
The gym, once a place of personal refuge, transformed into a battlefield where Colossus waged an internal war against his insecurities. Instead of seeking self-improvement, his newfound determination took a darker turn. He wanted to make Brooke Blakely pay for the longing she unknowingly stirred within him. The resentment grew, not just for her beauty but for the temptation she represented.
Fueled by bitterness, Colossus intensified his training regimen. His workouts became exercises in aggression, the clanging of weights and the echoes of his exertion resonating with a malevolent undertone. He sculpted his body into a formidable force, not for the sake of self-betterment, but as a means to exact revenge upon the very source of his torment.
The day of reckoning arrived in the wrestling ring, where Colossus would face Brooke Blakely, his internal turmoil manifesting in a physical clash. The audience, unaware of the tumult within him, anticipated a thrilling contest. As Colossus entered the ring, the animosity in his eyes was palpable, an unsettling energy that set the stage for a fierce confrontation.
The bell rang, and the two adversaries locked eyes in a moment of silent intensity. Colossus, driven by a toxic mix of desire and resentment, unleashed a relentless assault. His movements were fueled by an inner rage that sought to make Brooke submit to him, to force her acknowledgment of his newfound strength.
As the match unfolded, Colossus relentlessly pursued victory, each maneuver executed with a cruel precision. He reveled in the idea of making Brooke tap out, forcing her to yield not just physically but symbolically to the man she could never desire. The crowd, initially captivated by the spectacle, began to sense the darkness in Colossus' intent.
"You useless, pitiful girl. You really thought a gimmick change would make us see you as less than an intolerable wench with an undeserved ego? Everywhere you go you turn into the laughing stock. You've been in more comapnies than than letters in word and not a single one of them have you ever even sniffed the main event. You're filler talent, at its epitome. You've never been anything more than a pretty face and a set of tits, that skated by this long on looks alone with no real talent to speak of. The only 'friend' you had in the business left you high and dry and ran to another company before you could leave your stench on her. The stench of failure is worse than any pH imbalance. It's clear that Brit doesn't want you here anymore, either, because she fed you to my monster. Anyone else on the roster, and you made you an appetizer for the most dangerous man in wrestling.
What's that tell ya?
It's a submission match, toots. Not only will be broken in half physically but you'll have to swallow your pride and tell the world the one thing you should have told them years ago. "I Quit." Your pride and your body will be broken and you'll be left with nothing more to live for. You can finally hang up the boots and move on to being the marginally hot cashier, it'll be about the only thing you're qualified for.
How does it feel being a literal joke everywhere you go? How does it feel to be the punchline of the wrestling world, the butt of a bad joke that just leaves us feeling sad when its done. Somewhere out there a typical dumb blonde is making fun of you. Every day your mom is pissed that she missed the cutoff date for abortions in your state. You remind me of the Butter Statue of the State Fair queen that's been left out in the sun and has started to melt. Visually and scent wise. A K-mart brand Lindsay Lohan.
Colossus rubs his hand over the photo of Brooke, grunting a bit.
Colossus: "Lady pretty."
"Sorry big man. I’m not interested in having some dispensary clerk’s sloppy seconds. Also he never did give you that extra weed he promised for the BJ, did he, Daymare?
I am not sure you know exactly what you're in for here. I am not sure you can comprehend the pain you're about to experience.
The point is this........I know you aren't going to have anything to say because there is nothing you can say. You have a better chance of making a nearly 500 pound man tap out as the Coast Guard does in finding the bodies of the Titan submersible. So do us all a favor, sugar tits. Turn in your resignation, save us the trouble. I am sure Colossus would love to go to dinner and watch Battleground from my phone than waste his time making you submit.
But just know that if you DO show up, its going to be a long night for you. So don't show up, break his oversized heart, because if you do decide that showing up is a good idea---he is going to take a giant Love Dump on your chest and make you lick it off."
Colossus gazed at the image, studying every detail with a mixture of admiration and self-doubt. Brooke, the epitome of grace and beauty, seemed to radiate confidence and strength. A stark contrast to Colossus' own perceived flaws. He couldn't shake the feeling that a woman like her could never be interested in someone like him – someone overweight and out of shape.
The gym had become Colossus' sanctuary, a place where he sought solace and redemption. As he continued to scrutinize the photograph, a flicker of determination sparked in his eyes. No longer content with being the perceived underdog, he decided to transform his insecurity into motivation. The desire to impress Brooke became the driving force behind his relentless workouts and grueling training sessions.
Each drop of sweat that fell from Colossus' brow seemed like a small sacrifice on the path to self-improvement. He envisioned himself shedding the weight, sculpting his body into a symbol of power and confidence. The harsh clinks of weights being lifted and the rhythmic thuds of his footsteps on the treadmill echoed his dedication.
As weeks turned into months, Colossus transformed. His once heavy frame began to sculpt into a powerful physique, muscles defining his every move. The gym, once a place of refuge, became a proving ground for his determination and resilience.
Yet, the image of Brooke Blakely continued to haunt him, a reminder of the unattainable goal that drove him forward. Colossus was aware that the path he had chosen was not just about self-improvement; it was about proving a point. He wanted to make Brooke see him differently – not as a fat, out-of-shape man, but as someone who could command respect and admiration.
The gym, once a place of personal refuge, transformed into a battlefield where Colossus waged an internal war against his insecurities. Instead of seeking self-improvement, his newfound determination took a darker turn. He wanted to make Brooke Blakely pay for the longing she unknowingly stirred within him. The resentment grew, not just for her beauty but for the temptation she represented.
Fueled by bitterness, Colossus intensified his training regimen. His workouts became exercises in aggression, the clanging of weights and the echoes of his exertion resonating with a malevolent undertone. He sculpted his body into a formidable force, not for the sake of self-betterment, but as a means to exact revenge upon the very source of his torment.
The day of reckoning arrived in the wrestling ring, where Colossus would face Brooke Blakely, his internal turmoil manifesting in a physical clash. The audience, unaware of the tumult within him, anticipated a thrilling contest. As Colossus entered the ring, the animosity in his eyes was palpable, an unsettling energy that set the stage for a fierce confrontation.
The bell rang, and the two adversaries locked eyes in a moment of silent intensity. Colossus, driven by a toxic mix of desire and resentment, unleashed a relentless assault. His movements were fueled by an inner rage that sought to make Brooke submit to him, to force her acknowledgment of his newfound strength.
As the match unfolded, Colossus relentlessly pursued victory, each maneuver executed with a cruel precision. He reveled in the idea of making Brooke tap out, forcing her to yield not just physically but symbolically to the man she could never desire. The crowd, initially captivated by the spectacle, began to sense the darkness in Colossus' intent.
"You useless, pitiful girl. You really thought a gimmick change would make us see you as less than an intolerable wench with an undeserved ego? Everywhere you go you turn into the laughing stock. You've been in more comapnies than than letters in word and not a single one of them have you ever even sniffed the main event. You're filler talent, at its epitome. You've never been anything more than a pretty face and a set of tits, that skated by this long on looks alone with no real talent to speak of. The only 'friend' you had in the business left you high and dry and ran to another company before you could leave your stench on her. The stench of failure is worse than any pH imbalance. It's clear that Brit doesn't want you here anymore, either, because she fed you to my monster. Anyone else on the roster, and you made you an appetizer for the most dangerous man in wrestling.
What's that tell ya?
It's a submission match, toots. Not only will be broken in half physically but you'll have to swallow your pride and tell the world the one thing you should have told them years ago. "I Quit." Your pride and your body will be broken and you'll be left with nothing more to live for. You can finally hang up the boots and move on to being the marginally hot cashier, it'll be about the only thing you're qualified for.
How does it feel being a literal joke everywhere you go? How does it feel to be the punchline of the wrestling world, the butt of a bad joke that just leaves us feeling sad when its done. Somewhere out there a typical dumb blonde is making fun of you. Every day your mom is pissed that she missed the cutoff date for abortions in your state. You remind me of the Butter Statue of the State Fair queen that's been left out in the sun and has started to melt. Visually and scent wise. A K-mart brand Lindsay Lohan.
Colossus rubs his hand over the photo of Brooke, grunting a bit.
Colossus: "Lady pretty."
"Sorry big man. I’m not interested in having some dispensary clerk’s sloppy seconds. Also he never did give you that extra weed he promised for the BJ, did he, Daymare?
I am not sure you know exactly what you're in for here. I am not sure you can comprehend the pain you're about to experience.
The point is this........I know you aren't going to have anything to say because there is nothing you can say. You have a better chance of making a nearly 500 pound man tap out as the Coast Guard does in finding the bodies of the Titan submersible. So do us all a favor, sugar tits. Turn in your resignation, save us the trouble. I am sure Colossus would love to go to dinner and watch Battleground from my phone than waste his time making you submit.
But just know that if you DO show up, its going to be a long night for you. So don't show up, break his oversized heart, because if you do decide that showing up is a good idea---he is going to take a giant Love Dump on your chest and make you lick it off."