"Well well well, look what I found." Kanye says in his ccky Southern accent. "Looks like a little slave kid without an owner.. Think I can take care of that." The sweaty rapper leans down and picks you up in the palm of his huge hand, bringing you to his face.
You tremble in fear of the man, who is notorious for being egotistical and self-centred. "Please let me go, Mr West! I'm just an ordinary kid, I do't want to be a slave.."
But Kanye cuts you off. "For one, you're no ordinary kid - You're the luckiest kid in the entire world, because as of right now, you are MY personal property. And another thing, don't ever let me catch you callin' me anything but 'Sir or 'Master'. Got it, runt?"
You gulp down the lump in your throat. "Yes, Sir."
He takes a sniff of your little, the shadow of beard around his mouth tickling you. "Mmm, you smell pretty good.. We'll have to change that. No slave of mine ever smells that fresh."
And with that ominous remark, Kanye carries you off to..
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