FunkHouse – FatCamp Ch. 03-04 on HotGuySecret
Chapter-3: Bus Business
Upon reaching the bus station his dad wished him well and he grabbed his backpack then walked towards the bus. Lorenzo was greeted at the door of the bus by a humongously fat, darkskinned older black man. This guy was massive standing at 5 feet 10 inches tall and he had to be every bit of 565 pounds or more. Like Lorenzo, a healthy majority of his weight was all stored in his lower half, specifically in his hips, thighs and huge fat hippo-butt. He had a thick full beard and a deep voice, “Hey! lil’ big fella, you must be, Lorenzo!” He said with a weirdly sadistic grin. “Yeah”, whispered Lorenzo with an irritated look on his face.
“I’m Marcus, your guide for the ride, and one of your mentors when we get to camp,” explained the giant, as he place one of his thick meaty hands on the short chubs shoulder. His fat sausage fingers pressed into Lorenzo’s squishy back fat and was soaked in sweat and musk, built from the ride over. “Well Damn! lil nigga, you bout funky as fuck, ain’t you!” Yelped Marcus with a chuckle, as he raised his hand and took a deep sniff.
Lorenzo just shrugged and said, “whatever bruh, send me home if you don’t like it.”
Marcus looked him in his eyes and said “like it?, lil’ nigga I Love it! Just made my shit twitch!” Then chuckled again. Lorenzo had no idea what he meant by this but just ignored it and brushed past Marcus to board the bus.
When he stepped on the bus he was slapped with the heavy stank of a bus’s worth of sweaty unwashed superchub kids with various body odors issues. He was use to this level of smell but he still coughed being caught off guard. Immediately he noticed that there was only 5 other fat kids on the bus and one other fat mentor, excluding the driver. Lorenzo found it weird that the group was so small and that both of the mentors were fatter than he was himself. But he just walked to the back of the bus, put his head phones in and stared out the window the entire time during the long 12 hour ride.
Chapter-4: “Arrival” (Decent Into Funky Hell)
By the time they arrived at the “FunkHouse” at the end of the long hot bus ride everybody on board was moist, sticky and drenched in sweat in all the wrong places. This and the fact that they had been crammed in a small buss with their fat funky asses and it’s accompanying butt sludge just marinating and fermenting in hot leather seats raised the level of funk in the bus to an unbearable state! It didn’t help much that all the windows were either jammed and stuck shut or too rusted to open at all and today was shaping up to be one of the hottest days of the summer so far. Each of the campers and instructors had put their hands over their noses trying to fight the brutal vinegary assault of the nostrils that was their combined G.O. or “group odor.” Being the outspoken thug of the group, Lorenzo was having no more of this hopping up to belt, “well this piece of shit stopped, what the fuck are We waiting for?! You muhh fuckas stank!” Marcus Chuckled mouthing, “you one to talk jit!” To himself before explaining that he was completing a mental head count as well as assigning beds and that everyone was free to disembark now.
Almost immediately all the chunky campers began to raise up and storm off the bus, resembling a heard of wild rhinos. Lorenzo thought back to what Marcus had said. He assumed by “assigning beds” he meant individually and that a rinky-dink place like this would for sure have cheap bunks. He had no ideal that they would be sharing queen-sized mattresses three to a bed or that they would have no changes of sheets and only be allowed to swap with the other groups, already “soiled” linen. In addition to these already strenuous conditions they be introduced to a slue of other particularly nasty requirements or restrictions set by the Funkhouse but for now it was late and time to hit the sack.
Marcus handed Lorenzo a small piece of paper reading, “bed #1 & bed #2” with what looked to be initials written under each bed then motioned the campers toward a shack sized cabin on the western side of the campgrounds. Just then the driver, a 620 pound horse assed behemoth of a man, who hadn’t said much of anything up to this point yelled out, “yea get chall’ some rest, ya’ gon’ need it tomorrow, MENTALLY!” Before letting out a loud rumbling laugh.