Regular Show One Pull Up Novels & Stories

If only the lady knew that any eighteen year old werewolf would do that comfortably. The lady wasn't alone. In the back of the car was a little boy, seven or eight years at most. He was playing a game on his tablet, it had all of his attention. “You like the game, right? What's the name?” The boy looked up and smiled. “Yes, it's really fun, it's called Butter Slap.” “What happens in the game? You slap people on the face with butter?" To my surprise, the boy nodded in agreement. “Yes! You have played it before? What level did you get to? I doubt you went beyond level seven, half my class didn't go beyond level five.”

“Oh no! My knees are getting weaker!” Blake gritted his teeth. ‘Stop using energy just to complain!’ “Keep pulling guys, we can do this!!!” “1..2…3…PULL!!!!!” “1..2..3..PULL!!!” They heard Keenan and his teammates chant as they pulled. Their method seemed to work, since they were starting to get dragged away by them. The person at the very end in Blake’s team finally fell and soon they were pulled along. “Prrrrrrrrt!!!!!!!! Winner, Legends!!!!”

He was pulling his shirt off. It wasn’t a striptease. He did it casually, like it was routine, but her breath still caught when the black fabric slid over his head, revealing his body. Broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist. Not the overblown size of a bodybuilder. It was just defined. His arms looked powerful, exactly as they had in the videos. He pulled down his trousers, leaving his dark athletic shorts that clung just enough to make her notice his thighs.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, revealing a hairy chest, and tossed it onto the couch behind him. The room erupted in cheers and claps, like it was the funniest thing they’d seen all night, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I watched. It didn’t stop there. The next hand went down, and another guy had to peel off his pants, standing there in his boxers while the group razzed him about his skinny legs.

Lola instructs. Piece of cake. I get to the ground, and I begin. At the tenth push-up, my body starts to shake, but I don’t care. Everyone seems to be holding their breath, watching me, and when I get to the fifteenth, the crowd erupts in cheers, catching me offguard. Bree cheers the loudest. I giggle, standing up and wiping my tears. “Christiana, you’re next. Don’t hold back.” Rue glares at me.

I watch, waiting for one of them to pop a muscle because there’s no need for them to be going at that speed. “Eighty- one, eighty-two,” they chant in union while pushing themselves off the ground. “Five bucks, one doesn’t make it to a hundred,” Dre says beside me, also sharing the same evil thought with me. “No need to bet,” I laugh, “one’s definitely tapping out before then." Not even ten seconds later, the guy at the end collapses with a pathetic yelp, rolling onto his back and clutching his arm. “Predictable,” Dre says, and we both crack up as our classmate writhes dramatically on the grass.

I wanted to ignore her, but her constant pinches on my lap was getting unbearable. I forced my brain to raise my neck up, and then wished I never did. The ceiling fan squeaked with a rhythm. Anticipation was written on everyone faces. Everyone’s eyeballs glued to the moving bare chested male throwing poses as he walked down the class like a fashion model. He stopped in the, middle of the class, and caught everyone’s attention by climbing to the top of the table. He stood there for about five seconds, then began flaunting his muscles. He kept

I grab a beer from a cooler and head into the living room where most of the action seems to be happening. As I walk in, I stop dead in my tracks and take in the scene around me. Several of my teammates are relaxing on the furniture....with some random chick blowing them. In the living room. While two dozen people are cheering them on and Shivel is calling out things like "Thirty seconds boys! Suck harder girls! The title is on the line!" I want to pull my eyes away from the scene but I'm so stunned by what I'm watching that I can't. One by one, my eyes take in each of the contestants before they finally land on the dark hair I was hoping to see. But not like this.

I asked, but he shrugged, and immediately I got the memo. I stood without waiting for an answer and made my way to the center so everyone could see me. “Listen up, everyone. I don’t know what may have gone down while I was away, but please, I’m back, and we can’t keep pushing each other away.” I turned to Jordan, who had been playing with Andrea. “Jordan Denver, is there anything you have to say to John and everyone?” His body stiffened up when I called him, but eventually, he joined me where I stood. “You’re right, Jess. I do have something to say.” He cleared his throat, and I stepped away, letting the attention fall entirely on him.

This time, I did not turn back, but I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. I had barely taken a few steps when a text popped up on my phone. "Yvonne, you didn't manage to get married again, did you? What a pity. It's okay, though. You can beg Nathan to marry you again later. The eighth time is the charm, right?"