Nice Tucker!

This. Normies can't understand the thrill of pinning the muffinboy. Night spent chasing an potty wine drunk Sam around the cell block. His squealing and gibbering, pouring sweat and on the verge of seizing. Your fellow prisoners build up an intoxicating, delirious state with BIPOC chantings at the sidelines, hitting the Sam-toy with rolled up wet shirts if he tries to escape. Diddy would be giggling and laughing as the waves of crack cocaine pleasure seem to harmonize with the droning, unautotuned rap verses. He runs through the mattress maze skinny and hungry, with his big black peepee a divining rod for the muffinboy. Sweat gushing down his face around his unfocused eyes he laughs and chortles until he gasps "Found you!". The Greedscake screeches defensively but Diddy Diddler is upon him in seconds. His peepee thrusting blindly into Sam's flank, leg, stomach and ribs unconcerned about anything but the motion. Eventually serendipity finds his mouth and the Cocktube pastry is placated, suckling contently on Diddy's dehydrated peepee.