O, Signage of Truth and Virtue! Enter into Our Swoledom: Enter into Our Hearts!

[raced_god]

Who: Max, Captain Falcon, you?????
What: Hanging posters. Maybe some other stuff. Maybe whatever you want.
When: Week of April 21st.
Where: Around campus and also the locker rooms I guess.
Warnings: Swolitude. Tiny towels. Man talk.



The posters have sprung up overnight. Tacked to bulletin boards, plastered on lampposts--anywhere that can feasibly hold a flyer, the posters are there. The question, then, is where are they coming from? Who is putting them up?

The answer is perhaps obvious. If one pays attention, it is not difficult to find one Max Powers around campus with a stapler, one Captain Falcon following him with a stack of flyers.

One can only imagine the things that run through his head. I've saved the universe, he thinks to himself. I am the greatest racecar driver that ever lived, he thinks, with every clack of Max's stapler. I own islands.

And yet

And yet, dear reader, there they are.

Comments

[raced_god]

"No, I'm good. I keep some stuff in a locker."

You know, for those days of early morning jogs and not wanting to smell like BO in class. SO THEY WERE OFF, to the mystical land of the locker room, where Falcon extracted said shower caddy from the aforementioned locker. He looked at Max expectantly as if to ask if he, too, planned to hit the showers.

No homo.

[tank_rockarms]

Max was already mostly naked, save for his boxers. He also kept shower things in the locker room, in case he forgot to shove clean things in his duffel bag.

Zero homo.

[raced_god]

Having surely done this many times before, Falcon was mostly unsurprised and instead of acknowledging the fact that one second Max was clothed, and the next he was mostly naked, the Captain just headed for the nightmare of open shower space.

It was at this point that he, too, stripped down until he was in naught but a tiny towel.

[tank_rockarms]

Max had placed his boots up against a row of lockers, where he kept his regular clothes. He knew that nobody was going to touch them, because if they did, he'd smash their face in.

Max had a rather large towel wrapped around his midsection that, for all intents and purposes, acted like a tiny towel, as he carried a bottle of soap and another of shampoo into the shower area.

There they were. Open showers. Tiny towels. Imminent nudity.

[raced_god]

falcon whipped his dick out

[tank_rockarms]

Max brought his Special Forces out of reserve.

[raced_god]

Thanks, Max.

This was not, however, the first time these men had partaken of open shower space together, nor would it be the last. Falcon was mostly unfazed, as he was generally much more preoccupied with the size of Max's inhuman upper body.

How, he thought to himself. Why.

[tank_rockarms]

Dedication is how. Three puberties was why.

Max, meanwhile, was thinking about things Falcon could do to improve his lats.

"You do seated rows more than once a week?" Max asked.

[raced_god]

"Yeah," he answered, squirting a generous amount of manly shower gel into his open palm. "When I feel like it."

[bluetanker]

"'Cause I was just thinkin' that if you did them consistently twice a week, you could get more flare in the back," responded Max, as he put some two-in-one shampoo/conditioner into his blue hair and then scratched it in real good.

[raced_god]

"Okay, I'll do them consistently twice a week."

Said as off-handedly as possible, of course.

"Flare in the back?"

Falcon was pretty sure he was going to regret this.

[tank_rockarms]

"Get your back thicker," said Max. "Flare out more. Cobra-head wide."

[raced_god]

Falcon kind of squinted a little bit.

"What..."

[tank_rockarms]

"This part," said Max, grabbing his own side and grasping the part of his back that looked like it was doubling as a manta ray. "Get more of this, get more V-taper, get more bigger."

[raced_god]

Falcon stared a little bit more and then started shampooing his beautiful hair, shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

"You're so weird."

[tank_rockarms]

"I ain't weird. I just don't like to see wasted potential, is all," said the naked man who didn't like to see wasted potential.

[raced_god]

WASTED POTENTIAL

wasted potential.

"I don't think I'm wasting my potential."

[tank_rockarms]

W a s t e d P o t e n t i a l

"You've got good genes. Just look at your quads."

Max is looking at your quads.

"But if you did what I told you for the next six months, I'd add twenty pounds of muscle to you. And you know I'm right."

You really do.

[raced_god]

Max, stop looking at his quads. You're making him feel self-conscious about his quads. Not that he really needed to, being Captain Thunder Thighs and all, but it was the whole principle of having Max stare at them while they were standing around naked in the shower.

"I'm good, Max. I need to be able to fit through doors."

Or, more specifically, into his car.

[tank_rockarms]

"You'd still fit through doors," said Max. "You ain't got the frame to get door-width. But you'd have problems fittin' into your t-shirts; and that's a fun problem to have."

Max, evidently, has lots of fun.

[raced_god]

"It's a problem I'd rather not have."

Falcon was totally okay with not having to buy new t-shirts all the time.

[tank_rockarms]

Max shook his head.

"I just don't understand 'could be bigger, but doesn't wanna be bigger,'" he admitted. "Just don't make no sense."

Don't make no sense at all.

[raced_god]

"I know you don't," Falcon answered, clapping Max on the shoulder. "But I have other things to think about."

You know, like racing and bounty hunting and being able to outrun people who wanted to kill him and not being a giant, lumbering wall of muscle that tore off his shirts all the time just by flexing and couldn't fit through doors.

Those kinds of things.