After the dinner with Frodo's children, Pest decided it was time for him to relax on his own. No team mates, no War Games, just Barbie and him in a hotel room. Not the motel rooms he was usually stuffing her into. No, this event called for grandeur, and Barbie was happy to accept the grandeur. She lay in a bathrobe on the mattress, while he had run out to the store to procure some Wine for their celebrations. Nothing special, just a bottle of White Zinfandel, something American. Something cheap. She doesn't deserve fancy. Barbie is flipping through channels on the TV when she stops at MTV. It's playing Nicki Minaj, or something. All rappers seem about the same, regardless of gender. There seems to be an advertisement for some liquor or wine that Barbie wants to try, because she calls up Pest while he's shopping.

Barbie:Hey, baby.

Mr. WGWF:Yes, Barbie?

Barbie:Have you left the store?

Mr. WGWF:No. I'm still here. Why?

Barbie:Nicki has a new drink out. I wanna try it!

Mr. WGWF:What is it?

Barbie:I dunno. It's called Myx. Think you can get it for me?

Mr. WGWF:Fine, Barbie. Now, go watch TV and let me get this stuff.

Pest hung up the phone, and slid it into his pocket before walking around looking at the bottles, eventually settling on a Barefoot Red for him, and began searching for that Myx stuff. Having trouble finding it in the store, Pest breaks down and has to ask for help.

Mr. WGWF:Excuse me, sir. I think I might require assistance.

Sales clerk:Of course. How can I help?

Mr. WGWF:My girl just called me, she's looking for something called Mix. Nicki something makes it.

Sales clerk:Yeah, Nicki Minaj's Moscato blend, Myx. We have some. Do you want Peach, Moscato, or Coconut?


Mr. WGWF:Peach. She's more into fruity things.

Sales Clerk:Right, just need to see your ID.

Pest shows his ID to the cashier, and pays. He exits the store, and gets into his car. The engine starts, and he lays his head on the steering column.

Mr. WGWF:What the fuck am I doing? I'm an old man. Why am I even fighting still.

He lifts his head, rubs his eyes, and drives on towards Barbie. He arrives to find Barbie laying in the tub relaxing. Her staple wounds are healing nicely. She doesn't even notice he's walked in until he drops the bottle of Myx in the water next to her.

Mr. WGWF:Hey.

Barbie:Hey, you. You found it! Open it for me? My fingers are all pruny.

Mr. WGWF:Leave it closed, and shove it inside you.

Barbie:What?

Mr. WGWF:Put the bottle inside you. Then, I'll open it and you can drink it. I want to watch you play with yourself using it.

Barbie:Really?

Mr. WGWF:Yes.

Barbie:But the bottle cap will hurt me.

Mr. WGWF:It will be fine. Now, please get to it.

Barbie does as she's told, and slowly inserts the bottle inside of herself, spreading the labia and going into the vaginal canal. She begins to pull it in and out slowly at first. Her free hand moves to her breast and begins to play with her nipple. Pest is looking pleased. She begins to moan slowly, and move the bottle faster. Her free hand moves from her breast to her clit, and begins to rub it. Her moaning increases in both volume and speed.

Barbie:Oh. Fuck, I'm about to cum.

Mr. WGWF:Stop.

She stops and looks at him.

Barbie:I thought you wanted me to cum?

Mr. WGWF:I do. But not on the bottle anymore. Things have changed. Get out of the bath.

She starts to stand up, and the bottle dunks back into the water. She reaches down for it.

Mr. WGWF:Leave the bottle. Get on the bed.

Barbie does as she's told and leaves the bottle. Once she's stepped out of the tub she reaches for a towel, but Pest stops her from grabbing it. A finger points to the door, and she begins to walk out of the bathroom naked. The door is open and she goes to close it, but he again stops her. She begins to walk towards the bed, her hips swaying, and breasts bouncing as she does. A bellboy walks by and stops to watch her. She doesn't notice, but Pest does. He hands the bellboy $10 to walk away, before closing the door himself. Barbie lays down, and waits for Pest.

Mr. WGWF:Start rubbing yourself again.

Barbie's hand moves to her genitals, and she begins to rub her clitoris again. She slipped a finger inside her, and began to tickle her vagina. Slowly she inserted two fingers, and began to move quicker. Pest moved slower towards her. He liked the sight, and wanted her to continue.Her breathing began to slow.

Barbie:James, baby. I'm right about to cum. Oh god.

Mr. WGWF:Stop.

Barbie:You can't keep having me tease myself.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Mr. WGWF:You're going to cum tonight. I promise you that.

She stopped and looked at him. He began to move towards her again. She just watched him, hand still down by her genitals. As he approached her, he stroked her hair and she just looked up at him with want in her eyes. He moved between her dangling feet and knelt on the floor in front of her.

Barbie:Baby, you're gonna eat me? You've never eaten me before.

Mr. WGWF:I am.

Pest moves his face close to Barbie's throbbing vagina and begins to lick it. She wraps her legs around his head, and holds him in place. The stubble of her hair trying to grow through tickled his face. He pulled his face back for a second, and stuck a finger in. He moved the finger around, trying to get it nice and wet, before pulling it out, and sliding it in her tight butthole. She let out a slight gasp.

Barbie:I kind of like that.

Mr. WGWF:Good.

He goes back to the task of eating Barbie, and she tightens her grip on him. Her hands run through his hair, and with a shudder she cums. He laps at it while she shivers. Her legs go limp, and he slowly pulls back, and stands up. Without saying a word he drops his pants, and boxers on the floor. She's not even looking, just relaxing in a post orgasm glow. He strokes his erection once, then twice, and then slides it inside of her. Her body quivers again, and her hand reaches out to touch him. His hands find their way to her back, and he lifts her up. She's off the bed, and in the air. Her head falls down, hair dangling, and eyes rolled back into her skull.

Barbie:God, I am the luckiest girl in the world.

He re-positions them so that he's on his back laying on the bed, and she's upright riding him. Her hips moving forward and backwards, her hands pressed on his shoulders, head down, hair touching Pest's face, with her chest bouncing with every thrust. The past of his thrusts quicken and soon surpass her speed. One hand darts up to her breast, and begins to rub her nipple. She's enjoying this, he can feel it. Once again, his hands find their way to her back, and with one solid motion he flips her on her back with her legs wrapped around his waist, and in the air. Her hips stop moving, and his thrusts are all that matter. She's looking up at him, and goes up for a kiss. What a kiss it is, their tongues dance as if it were their last days on earth, and her chest stops moving as if he has stolen her breath. One final thrust and they collapse.

Barbie:Did you cum, Baby?

Mr. WGWF:Yes. Did you?

Barbie:Both times.

Mr. WGWF:Good. Now, I have to shower. You can start drinking.


Without saying a word, Pest gets up off Barbie, and walks to the bathroom. His once hard rod now lays limp between his legs. Barbie just lays there starting at the ceiling imagining how lucky she is. The sound of the tub draining is heard, and he comes back into the room a minute later holding the opened bottle of Myx. Silent still, he hands the bottle to Barbie and walks off to shower. As the shower runs she just lays there drinking, and imagining how she's going to tell him that she's late.

---

So, you like War, Michael? Good. I hope you like War, because that's what's coming for you. I don't think you'll be anywhere near ready, though. You can imagine yourself to be ready, but when it comes right down to it, you're not, and you never will be. You can only imagine the horrors that would beseech you if you truly went to war with me. Oh, you want to pretend to kill a man with a drill, because he's a child molester? Then act as if the charade somehow prepares you for me? No, Michael. You are far from prepared. I'd say you are the least prepared man in this match, and that includes my associate S.W.A.T. who, as of yet, has remained unheard from. You see, Michael, as I've already said, and yet it needs repeating, you are not the man you claim to be. You are simply just a pretender, and a poor one at that. There's not a way on this Earth that you could be half the things you claim, and get away with doing the other half. The only thing you truly are is a bad father. But that is perfectly okay, Michael. Because in a few short days, I will destroy you in the ring, and then I will walk into your house, and find little Bianca. I will force Bianca to lay perfectly still as I thrust my rock hard erection inside of her. Repeatedly. And after I've cum? I will pull it out, and piss on her. As she lay there crying and covered in piss, I will stroke my cock until it gets hard again, and I will force myself into her a second time. I will repeat this process until your little girl has lost all will to live. And then I will leave, and never darken your doorstep again. But Bianca will still dream of me, and her dreams will hurt her. This is your doing, Michael. All because you had to act hard and tough. What a shameful father you are. Truly.

Call Theodore, maybe he can rub a couple of nickles together to get you added security at your house. You did work for the man long enough to have established that kind of friendship, right? I mean, a success like him has to take care of the invalid who washes his rims, right? That's how things work, you wash his tires and he takes care of you, correct?

And dear old Ezekiel, how are you? I've heard about that "daring" rescue to get you free from that prison. But the thing is, I don't believe that happened either. Because your teammates are far too simple to successfully pull something like that off. How could they possibly do that and expect it to work? I mean, Vinnie Lane has trouble tying his shoes without singing the bunny song, and Gator is so inept at the simplest of tasks it ceases to be comical. No, he is more akin to a child with Trisomy 21. And you, Ezekiel? You are not unlike a child who was born with Hydrocephalus, and left without the shunt. It would explain the reason you look the way you do, and the reason you act the way you do. Let's ignore that, for a moment, though. You are the supposed owner of this federation? That's your newest claim, well if you're the owner perhaps you can point out a time when you've actually won a match. Go on. I'd love to see this, because you do not win, Ezekiel. I know, I got off to a rocky start, but that is changing. Now, tell me when you've won. You lost a match to your own AIDs, a disease that now possesses Peter Gilmour's wife. Your disease once spoke to you regularly, but now appears to have abandoned you because even it realizes that you are just a loser, and not worth harassing.

Believe otherwise, if you want, but you will not walk out the winner at War Games, Ezekiel. Not ever if you and I face each other. Bear that in mind, and prepare your excuses now.