A flash of crimson, red like blood.
A glimmer of white, pale like cum.
These were the scales that ran along the body of who would soon be the God of eternity.
His name?
Sir Bartholomew Cummington Boldrock the LXIX.
Or Barth, for short.
Bart was just a regular salmon, he cherished his river as any fish would, but he yearned for something more, something wet. Something he could slide his thick girthy fenis into.
You see, Bart was a hero in the eyes of the fish of the river, but he himself was lonely. All he wanted was a bit of fussy or some fenis. Possibly as a reward for his hundreds of heroic deeds, but every available salmon in the river were in serious sexual felationships. How was he supposed to live, laugh, and love in such horrid conditions?
Bart solemnly waded his way home, slamming his pebble (A/N: his door.) shut and turning on XXXFINTACION. Was there something wrong with him? He thought people liked him... maybe they're just using him. As protection. Almost like...
a condom.
Bart gritted his teeth, his eyeliner threatening to smear across his slimey pink scales. No. He was better than this. He had the biggest fenis in the river.
And everyone knew it.
As the song 'Fuscelyn Flores' by XXXfintacion came to an end, Bart released a pain-filled scream, why was it always him?
The silence that followed afterwards made his ears buzz low, he was pathetic.
Bart paddled his way over to the mirror and studied himself. (A/N: his mirror was a singular shard of glass, most likely once a bottle of tequila.)He flicked his sexy red hair out of his eyes, which were still slightly puffy from crying.
"I'll show them," he whispered. "I'll show those bastard cockwombles my true form..."
(A/N: Sir Bartholomew Cummington Boldrock the LXIX has a heavy english accent)
Before leaving, Bart busted a quick nut and sniffed the air thoroughly. A sinister grin spread itself across his fat, sloppy lips. He knew what he was going to do. He just needed to get out there and do it.
(A/N: spoiler, it's not fussy.)
