Identity Crisis (JHW TITLE MATCH)
Oct 20, 2023 8:03:57 GMT -5
Dave D-Flipz, mosler, and 1 more like this
Post by Mongo the Destroyer on Oct 20, 2023 8:03:57 GMT -5
It had been a hard few months for Brad Babemagnet (FKA Buff Blueball….until he ate some strange meat) but he made the most of it. From being an indy wrestling darling in a beer-box Buzz Lightyear costume he had become a well-known neurosurgeon and now ripped hunk.
But the price was constantly being on the edge of starvation. Brad wasn’t the kind of guy to just mow down on any piece of food he saw. No there was a time when he would have pooh-poohed anything that wasn’t at least fully cooked. There was a time, back when he was still Bud/Buzz (depending on the fed and how afraid of Disney they were) he actually had a “pepperoni” only clause when it came to the pizza he was given along with his handshake. And if it was a hotdog and you put mustard on it? Lightyear/Lightbeer (depending on the fed) wouldn’t have dreamed of coming back (unless you offered him the same amount of money/food as the previous time, BUT HE’D FEEL REALLY BAD ABOUT IT).
However, desperation produces odd changes in people. Brad had been eaten by a dracolich and now he lived inside of a mysterious and fleshy land that where food was a premium. He had to make exceptions. And so his internal journey began. With each defeated foe and prize for some act of valor (or survival), he’d be presented with some weird meat…and he ate it. This lead to him gaining abilities, new names, and new looks.
He was happy with his look. He was happy with all of the personal growth he had achieved simply through seizing the day and eating carrion.
For the last few days Brad had been traveling with a band of locals on the search for Silver Snipe, a new macguffin that promised freedom for whoever captured it. Babemagnet and his companions didn’t realize two things however: 1. The Silver Snipe’s powers were a ruse made by a greedy king and 2. This adventure would lead him to fighting for the XHF Network’s Junior Heavyweight Title.
They had been on the trail for a while now and after working their way through some cities, doing meager good deeds and collecting some rewards from the locals. In some ways the stomach of Dinosaur Bones felt like home. The emaciated people reminded Brad of the methed-up ring rats from the circuit.
Brad Babemagnet was hungry. He knew though that every meal inside this flesh continent could alter him in unexpected ways. But Brad couldn’t survive on locally-brewed liquids forever. His team had come upon a temple that had been erected around a particularly luminous hunk of meat. Legend has it that it was part of Dinosaur Bones’ original body- before the tar pit and the millions of years.
Why had this oversized glowing piece of flesh been so venerated? It was said to be mystical. The temple’s denizens called it the “Meat of Restoration.” The team was pretty tired. They seemed as though they needed to be restored. The monks there were more than happy to provide everyone with a bite, but they warned-
…Wait, what did they warn? In his several-day-diet of only sex and locally distilled spirits, Mr. Babemagnet had been in a haze. He was so hungry, and he needed strength to catch the perhaps mythical Silver Snipe (and win the Junior Heavyweight Championship). Surely risking losing his new muscles and animalistic charisma was worth it- perhaps it’d actually knit all of his new skills together to make him a more complete human being. That’s what restoration is, right? He missed home; he missed wrestling in front of tens or hundreds of REAL fans. Innovating, fresh, RAW, wrestling- not RAW the show, the caps were just for emphasis. Brad abhorred large-market wrestling and was angry that they kept stealing his moves a few months before he’d try them out publicly.
Right now there was only meat. The monks dispatched the bits of flesh to the men, noting that they’d only need a little to be completely sated, as though their stomach was returned to its factory setting. Not being hungry for a long while, who could turn down an offer like that in a literally-living hell like this?
Upon consuming the meat Brad’s hunting party looked as fresh as the day they were born- not literally as they seemed to retain their age. But their wounds were healed and their skin was smoothed. They beamed with restoration. They also looked confused. Who was this man traveling with them? They scratched their heads as they looked at him.
He knew immediately what had happened. He looked at his arms, the muscles had melted off. His chiseled features rounded. The armaments he’d gained along the way to replace his cardboard had turned into a lightly stained t-shirt and jeans. The monks celebrated the power of the meat. Brad Babemagnet, formerly Budd/Buzz Lighbeer/Lightyear had been fully restored…
…To Jim Nothingofnote.
His men only vaguely remembered him, unable to recall his exploits or his leadership. They felt he was just “some guy” they met and wondered why he had come with them. The meat came with risks. This is why there are guides for such mechanics on gamefaqs.
Jim had to get out. He ran out of the temple crying and screaming. He dropped to his knees and cursed this stomach that encased him. He cursed the beast that ate him. He cursed the WWE for ruining perfectly good indy wrestlers. Jim had to start again. He had to get out. He had to find the Silver Snipe (and win the Junior Heavyweight Championship, but he didn’t know that part yet). And he needed some boxes of Bud Light in order to regain at least some of his old gimmick.
Desperation had gotten him this far. Perhaps desperation will lead Jim Nothingofnote to his ultimate form as well…or at least escape. Escape would be just as good.
…Or some other strange meat.
But the price was constantly being on the edge of starvation. Brad wasn’t the kind of guy to just mow down on any piece of food he saw. No there was a time when he would have pooh-poohed anything that wasn’t at least fully cooked. There was a time, back when he was still Bud/Buzz (depending on the fed and how afraid of Disney they were) he actually had a “pepperoni” only clause when it came to the pizza he was given along with his handshake. And if it was a hotdog and you put mustard on it? Lightyear/Lightbeer (depending on the fed) wouldn’t have dreamed of coming back (unless you offered him the same amount of money/food as the previous time, BUT HE’D FEEL REALLY BAD ABOUT IT).
However, desperation produces odd changes in people. Brad had been eaten by a dracolich and now he lived inside of a mysterious and fleshy land that where food was a premium. He had to make exceptions. And so his internal journey began. With each defeated foe and prize for some act of valor (or survival), he’d be presented with some weird meat…and he ate it. This lead to him gaining abilities, new names, and new looks.
He was happy with his look. He was happy with all of the personal growth he had achieved simply through seizing the day and eating carrion.
For the last few days Brad had been traveling with a band of locals on the search for Silver Snipe, a new macguffin that promised freedom for whoever captured it. Babemagnet and his companions didn’t realize two things however: 1. The Silver Snipe’s powers were a ruse made by a greedy king and 2. This adventure would lead him to fighting for the XHF Network’s Junior Heavyweight Title.
They had been on the trail for a while now and after working their way through some cities, doing meager good deeds and collecting some rewards from the locals. In some ways the stomach of Dinosaur Bones felt like home. The emaciated people reminded Brad of the methed-up ring rats from the circuit.
Brad Babemagnet was hungry. He knew though that every meal inside this flesh continent could alter him in unexpected ways. But Brad couldn’t survive on locally-brewed liquids forever. His team had come upon a temple that had been erected around a particularly luminous hunk of meat. Legend has it that it was part of Dinosaur Bones’ original body- before the tar pit and the millions of years.
Why had this oversized glowing piece of flesh been so venerated? It was said to be mystical. The temple’s denizens called it the “Meat of Restoration.” The team was pretty tired. They seemed as though they needed to be restored. The monks there were more than happy to provide everyone with a bite, but they warned-
…Wait, what did they warn? In his several-day-diet of only sex and locally distilled spirits, Mr. Babemagnet had been in a haze. He was so hungry, and he needed strength to catch the perhaps mythical Silver Snipe (and win the Junior Heavyweight Championship). Surely risking losing his new muscles and animalistic charisma was worth it- perhaps it’d actually knit all of his new skills together to make him a more complete human being. That’s what restoration is, right? He missed home; he missed wrestling in front of tens or hundreds of REAL fans. Innovating, fresh, RAW, wrestling- not RAW the show, the caps were just for emphasis. Brad abhorred large-market wrestling and was angry that they kept stealing his moves a few months before he’d try them out publicly.
Right now there was only meat. The monks dispatched the bits of flesh to the men, noting that they’d only need a little to be completely sated, as though their stomach was returned to its factory setting. Not being hungry for a long while, who could turn down an offer like that in a literally-living hell like this?
Upon consuming the meat Brad’s hunting party looked as fresh as the day they were born- not literally as they seemed to retain their age. But their wounds were healed and their skin was smoothed. They beamed with restoration. They also looked confused. Who was this man traveling with them? They scratched their heads as they looked at him.
He knew immediately what had happened. He looked at his arms, the muscles had melted off. His chiseled features rounded. The armaments he’d gained along the way to replace his cardboard had turned into a lightly stained t-shirt and jeans. The monks celebrated the power of the meat. Brad Babemagnet, formerly Budd/Buzz Lighbeer/Lightyear had been fully restored…
…To Jim Nothingofnote.
His men only vaguely remembered him, unable to recall his exploits or his leadership. They felt he was just “some guy” they met and wondered why he had come with them. The meat came with risks. This is why there are guides for such mechanics on gamefaqs.
Jim had to get out. He ran out of the temple crying and screaming. He dropped to his knees and cursed this stomach that encased him. He cursed the beast that ate him. He cursed the WWE for ruining perfectly good indy wrestlers. Jim had to start again. He had to get out. He had to find the Silver Snipe (and win the Junior Heavyweight Championship, but he didn’t know that part yet). And he needed some boxes of Bud Light in order to regain at least some of his old gimmick.
Desperation had gotten him this far. Perhaps desperation will lead Jim Nothingofnote to his ultimate form as well…or at least escape. Escape would be just as good.
…Or some other strange meat.
The journey continues.
