|Game 3||Game 3 Outline|
You tug on the ring, eager to get everything back the way it was before. However, despite your progress over the last few weeks, your bloated digits cling to the ring, refusing to let it budge, the fat bunching up as you do. You tug hard until you feel your finger joint pop and your finger aches, but it's no use. "Ummm..." you say sheepishly looking up at everyone who is watching you with the attention of cat's watching a piece of string, "It's... kinda... stuck." you say, trying and failing to sound casual about it. A collective groan goes about the room, as Max takes a look, "Yet me take a look at that," he says, as he grabs the ring and gives it a good yank, "Ohhh, yeah, you've got it stuck on there real tight. Huh, guess I should have thought about that." he says scratching his beard nonchalantly, "Anyone got some butter?" he suggests.
"WHAT, you mean we're STUCK LIKE THIS BECAUSE FATTY..." starts up Bob again, and the ring gives off it's characteristic glow, and Bob cut's off midsentence as he realizes that the ring is still working as his waistline budges out slightly more. "Max, I'm not happy about this," says the Alpha, who is surveying the situation with a calm demeanor, but you feel a hidden undertone of anger that he's keeping in check. "Keep you paws on youngster," says Max, searching through the refrigerator and squeezing by a few of the wolves with butter in hand. He applies it and tries pulling again, "I'm sure with a little elbow grease and muscle... uh.. hmmmm..." his struggles with the ring don't seem to yield any better results then before, "Well... I'm stumped. Anyone what to break for lunch?"
Written by an anonymous author
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