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JimCaedus · (12-14-2017)

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I've never been one to shy away from telling my story, even the horrible or awkward-phase moments from my past. In that spirit and in lieu of the holiday season and what I hope to be a little empathy in receipt from anyone perusing this...I need to get something off my chest...

I wake to wet sheets, the crotch of my pajama bottoms heavy with absorbed-to-overflowing liquid, my nether region already feeling the stinging exposure of rash in progress. The smell of urine is the icing on the cake, an authoritative backhand riding bitch with humiliation behind the wheel.

Why does this keep happening to me? What the hell did I ever do to anyone to deserve this?

Shit, I'm sorry people... The date and time is now-

--DECEMBER 25th•7 AM--

Rolling out of bed, I hit up my dresser to switch these wet bottoms out with a clean, dry pair only to discover the bottom drawer is bare. I'd forgotten I'd grabbed the last of them yesterday.

I look to the dirty clothes hamper next...empty as well.

Mom did laundry last night and forgot to bring the clean clothes back in. That means everything is still out in the garage and THAT means I have to go into my parents' room and wake her up now.

After gathering the courage to do so, I tiptoe down the hall to their door and twist the knob slowly...but it doesn't give.

Locked.

I debate whether or not to knock or just head out into the kitchen and pop my wet bottoms into the microwave to dry them. I'd done it before, it works...even if it does make the house smell like piss soup or watery popcorn. Of course unlike right now, those times my parents had been at work and I had the place to myself to air out safely, so I ultimately decide on knocking as quietly as I can, nigh defeating the purpose.

Seconds pass without the sounds of stirring so I end up knocking again...and again...until a gruff and muffled-

"GodDAMMIT!"

-from within. Just what I was trying to avoid.

The lock clicks, the door swings inward and dad bellows-

"It's seven in the FUCKING MORNING!"

"Hon', it's Christmas, be civil. What's the problem sweetheart," mom asks, rubbing her eyes sleepily from under the covers?

Incredible lady my mother. Always had my back.

Before I can answer-

"I don't give a good Goddamn WHAT day it is, I'm sick of this crap! ...WELL!? What the HELL is the prob- Oh you sunuvabitch!"

Dad's roughly callused right palm smacks me across the face. I taste blood.

"He wet his FUCKING bed AGAIN! What the hell's the matter with you, you freak!? You probably dripped piss all over the hallway carpet!"

"Stop it!"

Mom throws off the covers and hurries over, stepping between dad and I as hot tears begin welling in my eyes, coursing down my cheeks.

She places her hands gently on my shoulders, checking my wet pajamas then looks to my eyes and kisses me. Dad scoffs under his breath.

"It's ok sweetie, we'll get you cleaned up."

"That's right, keep coddling him. Prevent the pissy fairy from ever growing the fuck up, let's have him hosing the whole house down 'til the day we drop dead. Happy fucking Holidays."

"Come on, let's go. Just ignore him, sweetheart."

Mom leads me down the hall towards the bathroom while dad mocks-

"Just ignore him sweetheaaaaart. Bed-wettin', wrestling-loving fucking

for a son... He don't get that from MY side of the family!"

Mom closes the door behind her as she shuffles me in. She moves to pull my pajama bottoms down but I stop her. She laughs.

"Baby, I've seen your little hoo-hoo more times than I can number, there's nothing to be ashamed about, I'm your mother. What do I say? It's not the-"

"-size that counts." I finish.

"That's right, and never forget it." She whispers, "You DO get THAT from your father's side of the family by the way."

Then she bops the tip of my nose with her fingertip and we both giggle. I love my mom, she always makes me feel better about myself.

I relent and allow her to pull my pajama bottoms down, stepping out of them one leg at a time, the smell of my urine-damp flesh rising to my nostrils. She "paddles my caboose" as I then step into the tub, standing, and turn on the shower.

Lathering up a washcloth with soap, mom then gently scrubs my private areas and legs as I enjoy the warm water peppering my face from the showerhead on this cold Christmas morning.

"Ok sweetie, there you go. I- Oh! Oh my Goooooood..."

"What," I ask innocently?

She doesn't answer so I look to her and catch an expression I'd never seen in context with me in any way before. She looks disturbed...and she's staring at my pelvic region.

I look down to see a soapy erection rising. Before I can react, mom turns and scurries out, coldly adding a clipped-

"I'll get you a clean pair."

My face burns with embarrassment, I feel it through even the hot water. More than embarrassment...I feel disgusted. Creepy. I want to kill myself, I truly do. One thing can be said though...mom's little boy IS growing up, dad.

I finish my shower and before long there comes a soft knock, her hand clutching my favorite Star Wars pajama bottoms sliding through the ajar door.

I take them and pull them on. I still have an erection though, so I remain in the bathroom.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

Yep, she's still outside the door.

"Can you give me a sec?"

She sighs quietly. "Hurry please, your father would like to speak with you."

My heart leaps in panic and I don't answer as a myriad of reasons dance in my head. Among the mental chaos, my right hand finds it way down to my crotch, gripping around my boner tightly through the pajama material and giving it a few sharp nervous tugs.

Outside the door I hear my mom's weight creaking the floorboards beneath the hallway carpet as she departs.

What's wrong with me...do all kids my age act like this?

I pull my pajama bottoms down around my ankles in excitement, squirt some lubricant from the lotion on mom's shelf into my hand and go to town on myself...

::SKLURCH SKLURCH SKLURCH SKLURCH SKLURCH SKLURCH-

-BAM::

I jump in shock, spinning around with my hard dick in my hand to see my father's kicked the door open.

"You filthy fucking loser! You make me fucking SICK!"

He storms over, floor quaking beneath his feet, as I move to pull my bottoms back up frantically.

"Oh no you don't you fruity shit!"

He smacks my hands away and grabs a handful of the hair on my head, forcing me to penguin-walk out of the bathroom. At the doorway he violently directs me out and down the hallway, makes a left through the den, past the tree and the presents, and shoves me into the living room. I trip and fall to the floor, bare-assed and still hard.

"Your son was jacking off in the bathroom!"

I look up to my mom sitting on the couch in shame. She looks down at me...her expression stabbing into my heart with a blade of revulsion. I'm such a gross person I've turned my own mom against me.

"We found your little stash in the garage by the way..."

Dad remarks as he angrily holds one of my mom's bra and panty sets out in front of my face. I almost faint.

"Sweetheart-" That time it didn't sound so loving... "-why are you-"

"Who CARES why? He's a

and I fucking knew it! Dressing up in your mom's underwear, jerking off all over my garage!? Get up you piece of shit!"

I pull myself to my feet, pulling my pajama bottoms up-

::SMACK::

He almost knocks me out with that one. I stumble to the side and into the family TV.

"This is what's gonna happen now, son..."

He strides into the family room, snatches up two presents and marches up to the front door. He opens it and-

"FREE PRESENTS, PEOPLE!! GET 'EM WHILE THEY'RE HOT!"

-flings the presents onto the lawn. He stomps back to grab more.

"Dad STOP, I'M SORRY!!"

Mom does nothing, says nothing, as my dad spends the next minute or so tossing my presents out the door. I can't help but cry.

"Why would you do this to your own KID!?"

He rages over to me, looks me dead in the eye and says, and I'll NEVER forget it, it's what inspired me to pack up-

*****************

Main's family, himself and Drew are all awaiting anxiously as I pause, looking up from the diary at my position standing before the Main family hearth adorned with festive decorations as well as the Hart and 1/2 of the Tag Titles, a roaring fire burning behind me...

"KID, ROBBIE!? IT'S 2016, YOU'RE 31 YEARS OLD!! When the FUCK are you gonna MOVE OUT you redheaded fat fuck!? _THERE'S_ a MERRY fucking CHRISTMAS!!"

The room erupts with laughter as I toss the diary into the fireplace, "Property of Robbie" scrawled across the cover. The teary-eyed hilarity lasts around ten minutes.

"Red Douche Diaries"
(continued from Robert Main's "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Apex" promo)

--THE MAIN HOMESTEAD--

Robert's parents wipe their faces free of ha-ha tears and retire to the kitchen. His sister Kayla and her boyfriend remain behind, still suffering the lingering effects of the Bourbon-dumpster-fire-flashback hysterics. I look to Drew, now seemingly SUPER focused on Kayla, then to Main who takes a puff from his cigar before-

Fucking hilarious Jim! How did you get your hands on his diary anyway?? It's no surprise to me or anyone else he has one!

"Well hell, Robbie said it himself, we spent a short time on the road together while I was in the Motherfuckers. I just happened to spy the diary during one such trip and snatched it. Dick move sure...and Pig, Engy and I (though I'm sure they'll deny it) had to endure many accusations through bullish and tearful fatguy interrogations because of it...but with the fake news bullshit that blubbery bovine's been blastin' at the two of us lately I see it NOW as a bit of a preemptive strike from karma's corner."

You mean like how I'm supposedly "racist" and you allegedly beat your meat over Robbie in his sleep? This guy just keeps spreading on the allegations! Maybe he wants us to step down! It would save him a royal ass whipping if we did! He's a fucking coward! What's next? Is Robbie Bourbon going to join the #METOO movement? Hard to believe anyone would want to have sex with the guy! He's the type of guy that goes to an orgy and brags about gettin laid!

"And don't that whiskered flippered fuck-up think he's slick, the "hero" he claims to be, proudly pickin' the mackerel from his tusks, his cow Blue sunning herself on the sand, watchin' over their litter of infant walri while beachmaster Bourbon concocts his next self sabotage."

Self sabotage? I don't follow, Jimmy.

"What I mean is levying such an outrageous accusation my way when I have precedential evidence he apparently overlooked during his spineless scheming. Me, Jim Caedus, share a room with that plumply pulsating love letter to churros, Chocodiles and diabetes? Motherfucker stinks of McDonald's fry grease and that sticky white pus-like substance borne of flap on flap friction you'll find between the gut rolls of the ludicrously obese. Also taint sweat. For fucksake, spending any amount of time with that pasty pastry pulverizer in an enclosed space is an exercise in subduing gag reflex, a talent he's actually cultivated to legendary levels being able to swallow entire party subs sans chewing. Of course, cohabitating with a beastly broad who weighs more than you do, I'm sure the talent sprung from fear of starvation.

Floyd, you got that playback ready yet?"

"Been ready, Jim."

"Fuckin' A, s'what I like to hear. Hit it."

::XWF PLAYBACK, LETHAL LOTTERY 4 R.1 PROMO CYCLE::

I awake from a nightmarish sleep once again plagued by the stuff that comprises a thousand yard stare. What sets this morning apart however is the fact I feel darkly refreshed. Recharged; past capacity lethality even. I feel fuckin' fantastic, like I could crush a comic duo in the ring right _now_.

Despite Rob's generous offer of guest room accommodations I'd humbly opted to crash in the dojo.

'If you were in Texas you'd be waking up in a comfy hotel room booked by the brass.'

As if I haven't had it worse than this? Much, much worse? This was perfectly fine, I feel like a million goddamn bucks right now. Besides, solidarity as a Bourbon Man matters more to me.

'Then you should've taken Robbie up on the offer of one of the guest rooms.'

I'm a lot to handle, I'm not trying to weird these people out. My psycho ass needs to be eased into.'

'A bit too Cadryn there on that last observation.'

::END PLAYBACK::

"Aaaaaaand there you have it, proof that even BEFORE there was no bad blood between us I'd had no interest in sharing sleeping quarters with a man so fuckin' massive he WILL one day collapse in on himself, funnel cake killin' Faptain Planet, and my well-known cordiality disallowed me from truthful criticism, naturally, while being a momentary member o' the same clutch of NPC buffoons that've thus far dominated two thirds of Robbie's hype efforts for War Games, The Bourbon Men. And for the record...if THAT little detail doesn't clearly illustrate to Engy and Pig the irrefutable self-centered nature of Robbie Bourbon, I don't know what will. Add the fact that Battle Sow herself is standing pretty with hooves impossibly in high heels at a third percent team effort as well and you gotta ask Engy (thus far sacklessly silent with the pathetic phone-in exception of his single cameo appearance) if his _sudden intelligence_ is in fact the gimmick here and he truly IS

.

for waxing loyal to a fattening flake who fucks floozies that not-so-subtly exhibit their opinion of his cro-mag ugly ass by ALMOST pissin' on him (SO close, huh Piggy?) during orgasm (though he IS a jarhead and most likely thinks that'd make him appear cool in light of squirt video popularity these days, dork wannabe)...and the _established_ fatass who'd rather spend time circle-jerkin' with a pack of Robbie-laudin' losers, all without the nuts to _wrestle_ in the XWF and therefore will bring NO support to the match, in pursuit o' the best damn not-even-CLOSE-to-the-mammaried-man's-past-cartoony-shenanigans he can muster...poisoning the minds of children with his I-secretly-hate-my-fat-self Troll-Type-Triple X-L personality amidst legit BAWLING his eyes out, along with Sow, over my vacating their already sinking ship. But you know-"

I pause as Drew suddenly steps over to Kayla.

Might I offer you a drink?

Oh, uh... She looks to her boyfriend...then back to Drew. ...sure, thank you. It's good to see you again Drew. It's been a long time.

Good to see you too Kayla. Rob says you are a lawyer now just like your old man.

Drew bows and raises her hand to his lips, looking her boyfriend in the eye while he does it, for a light kiss. ...and Kayla doesn't flinch. She seems to kinda like it.

Dude, are you really going to pull this shit right here right now?

I'll be right back with that drink, k Kayla.

Hey, Drew? Hi. Kayla's boyfriend R(censored due to audience disinterest)e. You uh, wouldn't be trying to move in on her, would you?

What makes you say that, targe-, er- I mean, R(bleep)e?

Dreeeeeew.

Well...I'd like a drink too if you don't mind. Otherwise, it's kinda like you're hitting on her.

Consider it done, friend!

::None of us sees Drew's wide smiling expression melt to one of mischievous grin::

Drew walls over to the dry bar and starts making two drinks. One for Kayla and one for her boyfriend. The drinks are identical except for one small difference, the boyfriend's drink also contains about half a bottle of Visine Eye Drops. Drew then shakes the drink around, allowing the ice in the cup to spread the tetrahydrozoline throughout the drink. Satisfied that the drink is well mixed Drew turns around, walks over to the happy couple and hands the drinks to the people they were made for.

For my favorite couple. Enjoy!

Drew smiles at both Kayla and the boyfriend before turning around and walking away. Drew gets a few feet away and is tapped on the shoulder by Robert.

What did you fuckin do?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

How long have I known you? Something is up!

Drew then turns around with a huge grin on his face and looks out at the party guests.

Who wants eggnog?

"Oh, I do, I do!"

"FLOYD! Get your OWN damn eggnog on your OWN time!"

"Oh, I thought...maybe we were about to be done filming. Is there more you wanted to say to the Motherfuckers?"

I look to the lens.

"To be honest...as harsh as these delicate douchebags are TRYING to be towards Apex...they ain't said shit else I need bother myself with at this time. With the exception of the irrelevant Cyberjaw (Robbie, thank him for me...him cameoing in MY promo for that 21st Century Fox Deez Nuts remix I used was classy as fuck)...you Motherfuckers genuinely disappoint me.

Oh, and, I already assume, given the god-awful villains-only content you all keep pushing, you're all planning on owning your heelship, shitheads, and gonna try flipping our incredibly effective efforts of disproving your _heroship_. I apologize for theoretically deflating that BRILLIANT hypothetical tactic (of the sort those who dont take time to avoid botching via research and being REAL, like Dolly Waters and Engy, are famous for) and might I add, I'd wager it was Engy himself who proposed it, gutless prick camping out that he is so I wouldn't doubt some new "clever" ploy in pussying out and taking the stance of fuck good vs evil altogether. Then again...you can always keep playing at being the heroes, that's worked well so far, hasn't it."

::CLINK CLINK CLINK::

Main taps at his own glass for everyone's attention.

"To be continued...motherfuckers."

I'd like to propose a toast-

R(bleep)e suddenly rises, dropping his empty glass to the carpet.

Ohhhhh...I don't feel so good Kayla.

Really? What's wrong?

Main immediately looks to Drew accusingly. ...Drew may as well legit have a halo hanging over his head, as innocent an expression he returns with a shrug.

I feel like I'm gonna...

He gags violently out of nowhere, accompanied by a wet fart.

Babe??

Clutching one hand to his mouth, the other to the seat of his pants, R(bleep)e rushes out of the room heading, I'm assuming, for the bathroom.

DREW! NO. YOU. DI-IN'T!!

::STATIC::

TBC

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