Author Topic: The Tom Platz Wig (Part One) (Read 23462 times)

AC Slater · « **Reply #25 on:** September 18, 2012, 04:21:52 PM »

"Lonnie". Is his last name "Teper"?

Wiggs · « **Reply #26 on:** September 18, 2012, 04:23:09 PM »

LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!! UH-OH....

In before deleted...lol

King Shizzo · « **Reply #27 on:** September 18, 2012, 04:29:27 PM »

Shakespeare would plagiarize this shit

Nails · « **Reply #28 on:** September 18, 2012, 04:30:05 PM »

off lonnies myspace page

King Shizzo · « **Reply #29 on:** September 18, 2012, 05:31:40 PM »

Quote from: Army of One on September 18, 2012, 05:29:04 PM

Anyone know who Juruth really is?

A member of the Heavy Hitters.

Roger Bacon · « **Reply #30 on:** September 19, 2012, 09:09:08 AM »

Quote from: DeketheCreep on September 10, 2012, 05:56:07 PM

Ahahahah another juruth Classic

Deke, my 3rd favorite getbigger... WHERE THE FUCK YOU BEEN?!

Mitch · « **Reply #31 on:** September 19, 2012, 10:54:29 AM »

Brilliant and epic ! Stan Lee would kill for such an introduction

_bruce_ · « **Reply #32 on:** September 19, 2012, 11:08:43 AM »

Quote from: juruth on September 18, 2012, 04:15:21 PM

Part Two (Cont.)

By noon Big J was dejected. He had failed at life. Again. He slumped on the couch, reached up and tossed the blonde Tom Patz wig onto the floor, where it looked vaguely like a rat. His ruminations were abruptly interrupted by the piercing ring of the phone. Jumping up, he ran across his cluttered shithole apartment toward the now animated telephone. With his meaty weightlifter's hand he ripped the receiver off it's cradle and answered cautiously, "hello?" A muffled voice responded "Big J please?"
"This is he, I mean him."
"I saw the ad in the paper....", the voice was stifled and creepy. A voice calling from beyond the abyss.
"Okay, what can I tell you?", asked Big J.
"I want to be put in a head scissors. Maybe roughed up some."
"Okay," said J, "what's your name?"
"Donnie."

Too good to be true

Juruth · « **Reply #33 on:** September 19, 2012, 03:26:03 PM »

Part Three

The Carrier
Norm was a silver haired muscle dad standing six-two and packing two hundred and thirty five pounds of muscular bulk. His silver goatee was in contrast to his deeply tanned face, a testament to the hours he spent in the tanning booth at his neighborhood gym after his Goliathan workouts. He was on his thirtieth year with the United States Post Office, where he pounded the pavement as a mailman. But that wasn't why they called him "The Carrier." The real reason he was dubbed The Carrier was the fact that he was charged up HIV Positive, and showed zero symptoms. He was of of a stout German-Polish heritage, with a constitution that could throw off anything this corrupted planet could throw at it. Colds, flues...in this case HIV...Norm's immune system could bite it off and spit it out. Nothing delighted The Carrier more than dancing his tush off at a gay bar called The Vault. All the queers would stare and marvel at his wrought iron physique as he would gyrate and grind to the throbbing rhythm of some disco hit. At the same time every night, 1:10 AM to be exact, The Carrier would dramatically pull his skin tight shirt off and really show those queens what he had. then, later in the night, he would hustle some twink back up to the bedroom for some nipple to nipple steam. It was there that The Carrier would culminate his night out by "charging up" the twink; stuffing his rectum full of his uncut horsemeat, and as the smells of poppers and musky man sex filled the air, The Carrier would deliver The Ultimate Parcel, with a return address marked "DEATH".

dj181 · « **Reply #34 on:** September 19, 2012, 03:29:19 PM »

^^^ lol

King Shizzo · « **Reply #35 on:** September 19, 2012, 03:32:22 PM »

Juruth, I don't care if you are gimmick, You are wasting your talent. You should sign with a publishing company,

Roger Bacon · « **Reply #36 on:** September 19, 2012, 03:34:35 PM »

Juruth, your talent is astonishing to me. The funniest parts are the little details that seem so true!

I'm enjoying this story, I hope that's not gay of me!!

Your Average GymRat · « **Reply #37 on:** September 20, 2012, 11:01:24 AM »

Quote from: juruth on September 19, 2012, 03:26:03 PM

Part Three

The Carrier
Norm was a silver haired muscle dad standing six-two and packing two hundred and thirty five pounds of muscular bulk. His silver goatee was in contrast to his deeply tanned face, a testament to the hours he spent in the tanning booth at his neighborhood gym after his Goliathan workouts. He was on his thirtieth year with the United States Post Office, where he pounded the pavement as a mailman. But that wasn't why they called him "The Carrier." The real reason he was dubbed The Carrier was the fact that he was charged up HIV Positive, and showed zero symptoms. He was of of a stout German-Polish heritage, with a constitution that could throw off anything this corrupted planet could throw at it. Colds, flues...in this case HIV...Norm's immune system could bite it off and spit it out. Nothing delighted The Carrier more than dancing his tush off at a gay bar called The Vault. All the queers would stare and marvel at his wrought iron physique as he would gyrate and grind to the throbbing rhythm of some disco hit. At the same time every night, 1:10 AM to be exact, The Carrier would dramatically pull his skin tight shirt off and really show those queens what he had. then, later in the night, he would hustle some twink back up to the bedroom for some nipple to nipple steam. It was there that The Carrier would culminate his night out by "charging up" the twink; stuffing his rectum full of his uncut horsemeat, and as the smells of poppers and musky man sex filled the air, The Carrier would deliver The Ultimate Parcel, with a return address marked "DEATH".

Hahaha...instant classic! The best one yet!

Hulkotron · « **Reply #38 on:** September 20, 2012, 11:03:56 AM »

Quote from: Your Average GymRat on September 20, 2012, 11:01:24 AM

Hahaha...instant classic! The best one yet!

YAGR there are rumors that juruth is a gimmick of yours.

Wiggs · « **Reply #39 on:** September 20, 2012, 11:05:55 AM »

It's redmeatkid. It's already been proven.

GigantorX · « **Reply #40 on:** September 20, 2012, 11:26:25 AM »

The Ultimate Parcel, this one marked DEATH.

Hilarious.

Roger Bacon · « **Reply #41 on:** September 20, 2012, 11:30:13 AM »

Unfuckingbelieveable

Papper · « **Reply #42 on:** September 20, 2012, 12:04:36 PM »

Quote from: Wiggs on September 20, 2012, 11:05:55 AM

It's redmeatkid. It's already been proven.

"Gimmick" or what not ... Noone ever has written this good on getbig. Even better than mass04

_bruce_ · « **Reply #43 on:** September 20, 2012, 12:16:17 PM »

Part 3

Juruth · « **Reply #44 on:** September 21, 2012, 10:36:41 AM »

Part Four

Big J sat comfortably in the pleather upholstered bus seat as the big vehicle navigated it's way through the turns and potholes of the city streets. He looked up at an ederly lady who stood hanging on to the overhead handle for dear life as the bus took a sharp right. He thought about maybe being a gentleman and offering his seat to her, but also realized that he was feeling kinda tired, and that maybe next time around he might do something like that. Plus, he reasoned, he was there first and that's the rules of life. Survival of the fittest. The Strong win. He looked at the window as the urban plight passed before his eyes like a moving picture show: the limping strut of the gangbangers, the dirty beards of homeless wretches, the fat asses of Hispanic bitches who used their cellulite as a meal ticket with their male counterparts, the passive look in the eye of a seasoned cop as he pulled a sip from a paper coffee cup and counted down the minutes to his pension. Now Big J was finally on his way up and out of this cesspool of humanity. He was on his way to his first "posing session". He sat, clutching a brown paper bag in his lap in his two hairy knuckled hands. If this guy Donnie is on the level, he thought, it could lead to repeat appointments, referals, maybe even a supplement contract. And the wild card that made all this possible was hidden away in the brown bag: the Tom Platz Wig.

Roger Bacon · « **Reply #45 on:** September 21, 2012, 10:39:52 AM »

I don't even want to read it, cause I don't want the saga to end!

Juruth · « **Reply #46 on:** September 21, 2012, 01:32:46 PM »

WARNING! PART FIVE RATED 'R'!

dj181 · « **Reply #47 on:** September 21, 2012, 01:39:36 PM »

Quote from: juruth on September 21, 2012, 01:32:46 PM

WARNING! PART FIVE RATED 'R'!

make it "X" rated brother

Roger Bacon · « **Reply #48 on:** September 21, 2012, 02:16:19 PM »

Doesn't a guy named Big J post on getbig? Is this who the story is about?

Juruth · « **Reply #49 on:** October 30, 2013, 08:13:06 AM »

There was no smell like the smell of a 1970's Men's Room, a bouquet of shit, piss, puke, urinal cake and Lord knows what else. Big J stepped into thesubway Men's Room, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. He looked in the dirty mirror and saw himself: A Phoenix rising from the despair of abject failure. Ascending out of the sewers of New York City into the magnificent skyline. He pulled the Tom Platz wig out of it's bag, looked down at the blonde tresses in his calloused bodybuilding hands. He raised the wig to his lips and kissed it gingerly. He slipped onto his head and again gazed at himself. He was now Lion, King Of The Jungle, with his proud blonde mane. He turned and stepped into the stall, where he would wait for his client.