And so that crazy boy was awake. The dragon from days past who ruled our Jake Foster with an iron fist had taken the reigns once again and he was indeed shaking things up.
It is currently 2:18 in the morning on a Tuesday and at this moment, Mr. foster is plowing a muscle boy wearing a pink thong in a studio apartment in Harlem.  It’s all fun and games, of course, until someone gets hurt emotionally and this one, in the pink thong, was going to get hurt.  Jake saw the vulnerability in his eyes and felt the pain in his heart.
But…he didn’t care.  He was no longer in control.  This was simply one of the consequences of his rampage against the structure and the confines he found himself and until his tank was completely depleted, until he found himself in a dry and desolate desert without food and water, he would not be stopping.

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