The boy with the enormous thighs (pt2)

As the boy with the chocolate smeared face was growing up he had a penchant for style and fashion and experimented with a few looks. In his late teens he believed that he had it all figured out in the clothing stakes and carried an air of nonchalance around with him. When he had a little cash he bought a pretty cool denim jacket and jeans outfit designed by Ralph Lauren. This snazzy look was completed with a dazzling pair of ethereal white Nike Air Force 1s. (And a baby blue hooded sweater).

On obtaining the Ralph Lauren jeans he soon realised that they were particularly slim fitting, no, actually, they were rather tight. And even though it was particularly difficult to navigate his thighs and legs into the narrow funnels he somehow managed to do so. And this was more remarkable because it was without the  lubricant aid of butter and olive oil. 

Chocolate big thighs was a teenager on the move and felt good in his designer threads. However, one of  his friends owned a raspy caustic tongue, he immediately noticed the bulging spectacle of muscular thighs coated in faded denim mincing down the street and ingeniously labelled them - 'thigh jeans,' because to him such unsavoury jeans probably should have come with a parental guidance warning and most certainly should not have been allowed to be seen before the 9pm watershed. Our teenager didn't know if he liked his expensive Ralph Lauren jeans being describing in this manner and as a result he defiantly continued to wear them frequently and with pride. They were his go-to pants whenever the occasion lent itself to it. 

Little did chocolate face know that dark clouds were beginning to gather. 

This story of a boy with strong thighs peaked on a very gloomy and brooding day. You could say this was the day when chocolate face finally accepted the stark fact that he was 'different'. 

This is what happened...

Our friend was in the home of one his friends, Little Timi, a small chocolate button who's family had abandoned him. He now lived alone in a big house fending for himself.

 

The house subsequently became a home for debauchery and idle congregating.   Little Timi was a nice button but due to having no parental supervision he began to intoxicate himself on bottles of milk. Full fat, semi skinned. Basically, whatever he could get his hands on. He would encourage his pals to bring bottles of milk to share along with cheap chocolates to feast upon. Little Timi's mother would have been dismayed if she had found out what he was getting up to.  Fortunately enough for him she never did.

So, as it goes big thighs was sat there in the corrupted house (in his favourite RL jeans), on a chair that was straining under the weight of his legs. As per usual he was being laughed at by one of the imbeciles. The risqué shorts, the newly coined 'thigh jeans' were both being thrown into the arena for laughter and derision.  The atmosphere was decidedly tense and the teenager was getting agitated. So were the seams of his denim jeans, both couldn't take much more of their current predicament. (Remember, he wore the jeans often). Literally, both were about to burst. 

The most vocal of the gang was saying some wicked and evil things, alleging that big thighs had grown up under the tutelage of a tyrannical father who would insist that he spend hours performing deep squat thrusts and smashing coconuts between his thighs as a form of 'self development.'

That was it! Something cracked, well split. A cataclysmic split occurred and the Ralph Lauren jeans burst open like a great big dam.

Silence prevailed for a nano second. 

Then the whole room erupted like a vociferous volcano. The retarded teenagers began to howl at the site of big thighs, who was now stood up wide eyed looking like David Bannner. It was almost poetic that as he grew more agitated and annoyed his trousers incredibly split open displaying prime beef that glistened under the seedy lighting in Little Timi's home. 

A glorious glow took over the room and then everything went quiet, everything went dark.

Many years have passed since that astonishing day. The legend of chocolate big thighs has been retold by many people and naturally has been twisted as it has been passed on to a new set of ears as folk have come to hear the story of a boy who struggled to come to terms with his predicament.

His whereabouts now remain a mystery. Some say that he lives his life as a recluse, afraid to come out in the open, due to the extent in which his thighs have mutated. There are varying accounts stating that he has gone through hundreds of trousers and jeans due to them constantly exploding. Some even claim to have seen him exercising ferociously under the light of a moonlit sky performing repeated  lunges and squats in a secluded park, perhaps in those little shorts. But the most common whisper is that he has been spotted frantically riding a push bike at a rate of knots with his mammoth thighs pumping and throbbing in an amazingly strong fashion. 

Who knows what to believe. However, the quite bizarre story of the boy with enormous thighs will continue to live on.

The end.

Demola, TCC