#tf guzzle

[shnowyfox]

(suggestive) Sins of the wreckers be like

i got some jam on the page and it wouldn't come off

[potato-sauce]

Currently thinking about Guzzle (at least I'm pretty sure he's Guzzle i tend to get the Wreckers mixed up sometimes because they die and get replaced so often sob)

My guy has a massive fucking gun on his back

That's cool as hell

[fenraheartart]

wreck 'n' rule 😎

[dividingcosmos]

THE WAY MY JAW DROPPED IN THE RESTO

[tau1tvec]

Has anyone else who’s had Covid had it affect their appetite? 🤨

[occamstfs]

Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring. 

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder. 

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns. 

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock  edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks. 

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat. 

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect. 

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves. 

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

[anon-sect]

Story requested by @marcos1225

Uninvited

Part 1

Carlos heard that five of his best friends from high school were going to be in town for the weekend. It had been several years since they all had gotten together. They had kept in touch on a regular every month. Seeing it was the perfect time, he sent an invite to Alejandro, Miguel, Ricardo, and Tomas. They all responded back enthusiastically. He was so looking forward to the weekend.

While over at his cousin's place, Pedro happened to notice the stream of text when Carlos laid his phone down. "Whose party?" He asked him.

"Just me and my five best friends from high school are hanging out this weekend. We haven't done it in a long time." Carlos closed his phone. He was slightly annoyed that his cousin was being nosey.

"Can I come over then?" Pedro asked him. He liked hanging out with his super cool cousin.

"Not this time. I just want it to be my five friends and I. We have a lot to catch up on." Carlos paused. "Besides, they don't know you. Some of the stories we will talk about, you won't be familiar with. But, next time I have a party, you can come." He explained to Pedro, hoping he would understand.

"I understand," Pedro replied, feeling disappointed.

The weekend arrived as all five friends pulled up to chill and hand out. Carlos had a load of snacks set up as well as the beer and sodas.

Carlos greeted everyone and invited them in. It was a great time meeting up again. They all enjoyed their time together, remembering the good times and catching each other up on what was new.

Carlos then heard his doorbell ring. He got up to see who it was. He opened the door to see it was Pedro. "What's up?" He asked him, curious as to why he was at his place.

"I came for the party. I hope I am not late." Pedro spoke, waiting on the invite to come in.

"I told you earlier in the week, It was a private party. Remember?" Carlos reminded him.

"I just thought you would change your mind if I showed up." Pedro tried to reason with him, but seeing that Carlos wouldn't budge.

"I haven't, so just leave, okay." Carlos was slightly annoyed by this point.

Pedro would not take no for an answer. He pushed Carlos aside and walked in. "I think I will stay." He continued on in.

Alejandro, Miguel, Tomas, and Ricardo looked up as Pedro walked in the room. They didn't reconigize him. They saw Carlos walking behind him with an annoyed look on his face. "Sorry about this, my cousin is just leaving, right?" Carlos directed his statement at Pedro.

"No." Pedro simply said as he started eating some of the snacks.

Carlos was starting to get upset with his cousin. "Please just leave, okay." He was trying not to get too upset over Pedro ruining their good time.

"If I can't stay, I may as well bring some beer back home with me then." Pedro spoke up, seeing that he truly was not welecomed. He took out his phone and opened up this TF Pro Max app. He walked around and pointed the camera at his five friends. He hit the flash option at the camera focused.

Carlos saw all of his friends get turned into beer cans right before his eyes. He saw Pedro gather them up in his hands. "Turn them back to normal right now!" He demanded.

"I need something to drink at my place. But since this really bothers you, I know how to fix that." Pedro put done the cans and pointed the phone camera at Carlos and hit the flash. He picked up the last beer can. "I am sure you six will taste so good while I sit and watch tv." He laughed as he gathered all six beer cans and went back to his house.

Carlos was surprised his own cousin had turned him into a can of beer to drink. It was all because he wasn't invited to a private party. He couldn't scream for help or even run away. He was powerless as he was carried away to his cousin's house to quench his thirst. He only hoped that Pedro wouldn't actually drink them. He didn't want to be guzzled into his belly.

Pedro got back home, which was only a few houses down from Carlos's place. He sat the six beer cans on the table. He forgot the order he had picked them up in. He didn't know which can was which guy. He could end up drinking his cousin first or just one of his friends.

TO BE CONTINUED..........

[alphajocklover]

I saw this super hot biker dude on my way home and I was wondering if you could make me like him? I’ve always been a nice guy but I want to experience life as a total bad boy. I mean everything, the muscles, the tattoos, the straight promiscuous sex, being in a gang doing crime. All the bad boy biker things. You think you could make me that way dude?

I actually haven’t done much with bikers. I don’t really know why, but besides that one wolverine based transformation I haven’t so much as mentioned bikers. I suppose it could be because I’m slightly obsessed with jocks and tend to focus on them more than others but it’s not like I haven’t reported on different transformations, like surfers, dilfs, and even greasers before. Yet I’ve almost never mentioned bikers before, and I’ve absolutely never turned someone into one. There's a first time for everything though, and bikers are really hot. However, before we turn you into a bad boy biker we need to figure out how you’re going to become one. Most of the transformation methods I have on hand are jock based. But… There is one thing I have on hand that would be perfect for you.

It’s a motorcycle. Yes I own a motorcycle. It’s not really mine, I’ve never ridden it or used it. I actually inherited it from an Uncle, but that’s another story. I haven’t got a clue on how to ride it, and if I was going to use a motorcycle I’d probably use something else. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a well made machine, and it looks cool as hell, but if I were to put the key in the ignition and start the engine… while you can probably guess where this is going.

It won’t happen all at once. It’s going to be a more gradual than you’d think. You’ll gain muscle slowly over the next few weeks, just slowly enough that it seems less like magic and more like an unexpected growth spurt. The mental changes will go at about the same rate, with you slowly losing old interest over the next few weeks, replacing your geeky hobbies with more… biker appropriate ones. You’re going to end up with a fascination with motorcycles, a love of beer, and a knack for getting into trouble. The most starling change will probably be the tattoos, as I believe they’ll just appear towards the end of your transformation. In a matter of weeks you’ll go from a skinny nothing to a beefy, beer guzzling, motorcycle obsessed, pussy fucking leader of a biker gang. Yes, you’ll be the leader. You’ll probably attract a gang quickly without much effort too. People are gonna be drawn to you, your sheer badass manliness.

No more mister nice guy for you. From here on out you’re anything but fucking nice.

**hey there guys! Hope you like the Biker TF. It was nice to try something new. And it gave me an idea for the mystery uncle I mentioned. Enjoy!**

[urtranspuppyboy]

uhm uhm uhm uhm uhm 😅😅😅😅 Fuck

how tf did tt find out I had a puppy kink ?!😭

Dude just popped up “You know what good pups do? They drink their water and they get their rest. And I’m looking at you dehydrated and exhausted. So if you wanna be a good pup you better get to it.”

😭😭The dehydrated part is partially wrong I guzzled some water when I first got in bed, but my mouth is a little dry now…but- tf i’m just so confused…this is the first time THAT one has ever popped up and i’m just…so caught off guard….but unfortunately I do want to be a good pup so I will be drinking some water and going to sleep 😭

[potato-sauce]

Sigh...

Oh Guzzle

[strawberrybuni]

hi! try this :) https://pin.it/5CQFKF9db

I DONT WANNA FIGHT TOJI TF??? I can take him in a different kind of fight tho >:) also why did they give me suguru's technique like I am not about to be guzzling balls on the daily just to have some nasty ass curses that I can yeet out like pokemon

[blkkizzat]

i know your ask HATE to see me comin lol

anyways…rm!choso guzzling down reader’s milk while babydaddy!toji is crashin tf out

https://x.com/rezijellyfishh/status/1879159449845399696?s=46&t=dzwyYoruVKqiK9p0saJkdw

fjerhbkudjhbfkj no i love u in my asks bb!!

im deceaseeeeeed urgh yaaaas just messy milk drinker all down his face n chest!!! toji will have to wait his turn 😩🩷'

[link]

[wakeup01]

Your urinal story on spiral is one of my all time favs! Any chance of getting some not tf's like that one? 😍

Oh, that story definitely contained transformation. Transformation to a piss guzzling urinal, but still. Unless you meant ‘hot’ tfs?

Anyway, I try not to repeat myself too much with writing, and I have too many kinks to only write about one subject. But if you have any particular idea in mind feel free to shoot it across. Like idk, a cum container or something?

[whitehotharlots]

The real problem with 2020 was probably just that the left sucks

Freddie DeBoer and Vincient Bevins have both recently published books that purport to examine the manner in which the left-seeming energy of 2020 dissipated. I have purchased each but not been able to bring myself to read either. Not because I dislike the authors; quite the opposite, I admire them greatly and read their debuts. The problem is that I really, really don't want to admit to myself how much the events of 2020 broke my hope and spirit.

What was your favorite lefty moment of that horrible year?

Was it the time an Hispanic business owner defended his storefront against anti-police protestors with a chainsaw, which caused said anti-police protestors to squeal that they were calling the police?

Was it when Chris Martin Palmer, an NBA reporter for ESPN, first tweeted "Burn that shit down. Burn it all down" along with a screenshot of a large arson in a dilapidated American city while his avatar was a cartoon portrait of George Floyd. And then, the very next day--same account, same avatar--he tweeted "They just attacked our system community down the street. It's a gated community and they tried to climb the gates. They had to beat them back. Then destroyed a Starbicls and are now in front my building. Get these animals TF out of my neighborhood. Go back to where you live."

(Screenshot below. It has to be seen to be believed):

Or, saving the worst for last, perhaps your fondest memory was of Seattle's "Capital Hill Autonomous Zone," typically referred to as CHOP or CHAZ. Autonomous Zones were first theorized by "anarcho-immediatist" poet Hakim Bey, who envisioned them as lawless areas within larger communities that provided "radical safety" to their inhabitants. No laws, sure, but a helluva lot of rules. You can shoot up on the sidewalk or light a car on fire no problem, but if you dare misgender someone, express a forbidden thought, or otherwise just look funny, you are liable to get murdered by one of the self-annointed CHAZ "security personnel," hormone-guzzling freaks armed with assault rifles.

You can guess how this played out. They had their tents, their drum circles, their needle exchanges, and their woefully pathetic community garden. They also executed at least one black child who was joyriding a stolen car within their supposedly law-free utopia. We know this happened because one of their brain dead community members posted a joyful tweet about the "beautiful shot placement" of said hormone-guzzling freaks (although a video of the incident, since scrubbed from the internet, confirmed the murder occurred after the vehicle was disabled).

What was the explanation for this? Not just for the murder itself, but for the celebration afterward? Well, they were scared and also the black kids were doing a minor crime. Literally, without exaggeration, within just a couple weeks of establishing their ideal, radical community, the left had become an even worse version of the murder cops they were supposedly protesting.

And so... I dunno. Maybe the spirit of 2020 wasn't coopted by powerful forces or anything so much as it just sucked? Like, maybe these people are just violent shitheads whose differentiation from the far right is much more a matter of style than of substance? Maybe there's no path forward. Maybe there's no light at the end of our tunnel but just another, shittier tunnel?

[jayaluvsyu]

.

ok bro ts is for my irl "friends" or wtv idfk. "why yu calling matt n chris names dont yk they have a gf" "stop tryna get the attention" "what abt madi and kenzie" "stop harrasing them"

OMG KINDLY HOP IFF MY FUCKING DICK.IF THEY HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT THEN THEY'LL TELL ME ABT IT?STOP ACTING LIKE YK THEM LIKE THT FRL BC YU DONTTTTT,DONT ! ACCEPT IT BRO AND STOP LIKE IF YU WANNA SAY SMTH TO THEM,SAY IT HO.TF R THEY GUNNA SAY ABT IT? AND ESPECIALLY YALL DICK RIDING ME ABT NICK."oh isnt nick gay" "why r yu flirting with him" YES IK HE FUCKING GAY BC HE ISNT STRAIGHTER THAN ME. AND WITH THE FLIRTING OR SUM BS WHY TF YU CARE?OR YU NICK?LIKE TF.DONT B GUZZLING ON YM SHIT IF YU AINT GON TELL THEM ABT TS SHIT. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ im sorry i js had to get tht out. Tags(of ym amazing ppl):@m4ttthemunch @kenzieeluby @nick-sturniolo @christophersturnn @madifilipowiczz

[rewritingcanon]

harry the type to get asian flush from his forehead down to his neck, hermione the type to have all her joints inflame by next morning and hurting harder than period cramps, and ron the type to pass tf out and wake up needing to guzzle a jug of water in the middle of the night