Eighth
Sun, Jan 12 '14, 17:50
Pat CYOA by Eighth
>Be Octavia
>Sitting at home while comforting your watermelon baby after Pat tried to eat it for the third time, today.
>Singing the song of your people until you hear Pat come home.
>As he lumbers and stumbles through the house, you feel a stirring in your loins.
>Your uterus is craving a meeting with Pat's Dr. Feelgood
>You follow him into the kitchen where you see him with a bottle of grape soda and a bucket of chicken in the other hand while his face is submerged in it.
>He hears your hoof steps on the tile and perks his head up like a frightened meerkat.
>"Oh, it's just you. Thought them other hood niggas done snuck in here for ma chicken."
"Yes, just me. Sorry to scare you."
>"Nah, is ai-ight. What you want baby gurl?"
>Good question, what do you want?
//Pat sticks his fried chicken in her watermelon
>Your Republic of Labia was a hungerin' for Pat's big black rod of justice.
>You rear up and pounce on him.
>His chicken and grape soda flies upwards and showers the two of you as you give him a lustful stare.
"I need you to rut me, right now."
>"Aww, dammit, you made me spill mah grub."
>He pushes you off and picks up a large chicken wing.
>"Now you gon' get it."
>He pushes your head down, with great force and shoves the chicken deep inside your clown car.
>He stirs it around and you begin to squirm, eager for more.
>Pat then takes it out and leaves the room, leaving you alone and hungry for more but this time, you wanted his real Chickensicle.
>You rush after him and tackle him, his glorious folds giggle and flap as he falls to the ground, knocking him out cold for a brief moment.
>This was your chance.
>A chance you weren't going to waste.
>You grab some rope and tie him up tightly, now you can do whatever you want to the great Balacktus.
What next?
1


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