The following is fiction. It contains themes that some might find disturbing. Please check the tags and read at your own discretion. All characters are over the age of 18.
Chapter 5: Building Heat
Hello again dear reader, I am glad to see that you haven't abandoned me for lack of debauchery in my last chapter. You've proven that there is a brain attached to those abused bits of genitalia. Unless of course you skipped that chapter, in which case I would weep for your poor genitals but I'm sure they do enough of that on their own anyways. For those who did read it, be assured, your patience will be rewarded. For the others, well, I suppose you get more of the same. So without further ado, let's get you back to the horniest place on Earth, the Disneyworld of degeneracy, the only place where gays will wear a jockstrap for the purposes of athletics (mostly), the one, the only, The Ring.
***
We were done being shepherded around everywhere and actually had the freedom of choosing to wait out the start of the show with whoever we wanted. I, with my massive social circle, graciously decided to hang with my buddies Gym and Rodeo, gotta stay humble y'know? Well, that was my plan at least, but when I got to the green room I found it empty. Granted, I had gone as soon as the first warning was announced which left about an hour before the first matches were even set to start. What else was I gonna do, socialize?
The spread in the green room was much reduced from debut night, I guess Management didn't feel as much need to lure is in with nice alcohol and fancy cheese. Still, carrots and hummus washed down with cheap beer was better than nothing. And filling up before my fight was also definitely better than letting my mind linger on where everyone else was. Gym and I had been keeping our workout routines synced up, and we got in sparring every day, but Gym wasn't having those ostracization problems I was. Every now and then I'd see him chatting with C-Suite or laughing with BB and I'd get that little burning at the back of head like the last rope holding me over a precipice was about to be cut. Maybe while I was off being frozen out by all the other reindeer Gym had decided he didn't need me after all. Now rationally I knew that I was ridiculously early and Gym was probably still getting ready or showering or sleeping for all I knew. But if rationality and paranoia got in the ring together paranoia would be fucking the brains out of rationality in a minute.
So I distracted myself. I drank, I ate, I stretched, I resisted the urge to jerk off. After pacing the room a few times I finally noticed the remote hidden in a sheath on the side of the TV. Well, ok, not hidden, but I wasn't exactly looking closely last time I was here alright? I hit power and immediately regretted my decision as I was greeted by the sight of Alpha God ramming Gym from behind like a jackhammer followed up by a cut to him fucking me into the mat. They managed to get a close-up of my face. There was another merciful cut to some other of Alpha's matches against men much bigger and seemingly much more experience and none of them seemed to fare much better than Gym or I had. By the look of things trapping his opponents between the ropes while he destroyed their ass seemed to be Alpha's version of a signature move. I felt myself growing harder and harder as I watched Alpha destroy a cumulative ton of muscular ass and quickly hit the power button. Well I tried to, I actually hit change channel, but that was good enough.
The new channel looked like it was just showing the night's schedule. So that was a nice change, not just being thrown to the wolves. This time I'd know what animal that would try to rape was called ahead of time. I'd caught it while it was showing the latter half of the night. It brought some relief to see that Alpha God's match was against Thor tonight, at least Gym and I would be spared that level of humiliation for the near future. Which only made me wonder again where the fuck Gym was. The screen faded in and out again and caught my attention with the words "Rookie Showcase" across the top of the screen. My heart was pounding like thunder in my chest as I read the match-ups.
Frosh vs Long Haul (Re-match)
Octagon vs C-Suite
Beach Bum vs Harley
Harley was one of the more established rookies, by more established I mean he'd joined the Ring last year. Normally a match like this would be the headliner for the showcase, but Management likes to be clever. For the last two matches they'd set up quite the drama:
Gym Rat vs Hillbilly
Grunt vs Varsity
For those who weren't paying close attention, Gym obviously is my best friend and Grunt is Hillbilly's training partner, and seemingly friend. At least as close to friends as that freak got. And Hillbilly and I hated each other. Devious, right? I'm sure Management thought so.
The door swung open and I nearly jumped out of my skin as Rod walked in, followed by Gym and Frosh who were laughing up a storm. Rod looked like he'd just trekked through the desert.
"Well shit," he said, "there you are! Damn near turned the place over lookin' for ya!"
"Big V!" Frosh said, eliciting another bout of laughter from Gym.
"Uh, hey guys. Sorry, didn't know you were looking for me."
"'s all good, man." Gym said, "Frosh is gonna hang with us tonight, that cool with you?"
"Yeah man, that's cool."
"Awesome!" Gym said as he plopped down next to me, one arm draped over my shoulder and another around Frosh's. "Oh shit, are those tonight's matches?"
"Yeah, Frosh you're up against Hauly again."
"Sweet!" Frosh whooped, "That means I can keep drinking."
"Keep?" I asked. "Are you guys drunk?"
"Just been doing a bit of pregaming, dude." Gym said.
"Pre-?" I looked to Rod who only responded with an equally exasperated look in return.
"Relax man, it's only to loosen us up. Who're we up against?"
"Me against Grunt and you against Hillbilly." I heard Rodeo suck in a breath through his teeth but Gym was unconcerned.
"Dude, those two? We got this. We got this!"
"You haven't fought him man, Hill is vicious." I tried to warn him.
"He's got his tricks, but you know what? Tricks ain't shit against raw fucking power." Gym said with a wink and a pat of his bicep. God, his confidence was so infectious it made me want to believe him so badly.
"You sure your ready for him, dude?"
"I've got like fifty pounds on him and I've faced the champ. I can take him dude, trust."
I looked at Rod again, this time he didn't bother to even acknowledge us. He just grabbed a bottle of whisky from the cabinet and started pouring. He didn't have a match tonight and he was fully ready to take advantage of that.
"V-man, don't worry." Gym said, "Those guys aren't worth it. Look, here, Frosh and I've been talking and we've got an idea. So there's these groups right? Like groups of fighters. Like teams-"
"Factions." Frosh offered.
"They're called stables." Said a weary Rod.
"That's the bitch." Gym said, snapping a finger gun to Rod. "They usually have a theme like the Pantheon, they're a stable, and the champ has the Throne with all of his little bitches."
"Uh huh."
"So Frosh and I, we were thinking, y'know, we're all college guys, the three of us. So what if we made a stable that was like a fraternity?"
"A fraternity." I said dubiously, watching Frosh and Gym's growing giddiness with unease.
"Yeah yeah yeah!" Frosh cut in. "No it's genius, see, cause we'll call it- guess what we'd call it?"
I paused hoping they would drop it but they were clearly not going to give up. "What would you call it?"
"Alpha Beta Sigma." Gym said with the widest grin.
My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out what was so great about that. "Alpha Beta-" And just as I got it Gym and Fresh both shouted together, "ABS!" while Frosh pulled up his hoodie and the both of them flashed their abs before quickly descending into another fit of laughter. Rod sighed.
"That's so fucking stupid." I said, trying to hold back my own laughter.
"We were gonna go for pecs at first but I don't think there's a Greek letter C." Gym said.
"Plus it was too long." Frosh added.
"Yeah those are the two problems with it." I said, failing to stop from smiling.
We went on like this for a bit, Gym and Frosh sharing a new zany idea while I played at stick in the mud. For a moment I let myself pretend I was back in college, hanging with my friends while we got ready for a party. Until an attendant knocked on the door and announced that it was time for Frosh to take position.
"Wish me luck!" Frosh said with a wide grin, not seeming to feel the need for much luck.
"You got this!" Gym whooped.
"Good luck." I said.
"Try to get a dick out this time, yeah?" Rod said, causing Frosh to turn a deep tomato red as he rushed out of the room.
"Be nice, Rod." Gym said. "He's just a bit shy."
"That is the nicest thing I coulda' said to him." Rod said as he grabbed the remote and turned the channel back to the show proper. Thankfully Alpha God's promo was done now. "If he can't put on a good show he should quit now before Management makes a show of him instead."
That shut Gym up. On the tv we were treated to a 'best-of' montage from last week, which to my embarrassment included several shots from my match with Hillbilly. And not only the parts where I kicked his ass. Just watching him pound my ass made my tailbone ache. They ended on a close up of me that I could barely recognize. My face was covered in blood gushing from my forehead, strands of hair matted together and stringy, a baleful glare staring directly into the camera which I for sure did not know I was giving in the moment. Then a cut to Hillbilly, looking up at me with fire in his eyes as he lay on the canvas. Oh yeah, that fucker hated me, and it made my guts twist in knots.
"Gym, about Hill-"
"Oh c'mon man-"
"Listen to me!" I half-shouted. "There isn't a place he won't go for. Throat, balls, eyes. You can't let your guard down with him for a second. Don't even wait for the bell, once he's in the ring with you, you get on him and you stay on him until he can't fucking move. You hear me?"
Gym snorted. "I hear you dude. You're gonna see, everyone's gonna see, you come for the rat you're gonna get bit."
I kept my mouth shut and gave Rod as hard a stare as I could so that he'd do the same. He drained his glass and filled it right back up.
"I'm gonna work on that line." Gym said.
"Yeah maybe look at your options." I agreed.
"Thank Christ." Rod said, rubbing his temple.
The montage ended with a particularly artful shot of one of the Pantheon, Thor I guessed judging by the blond hair, suspend a guy in a full nelson while he shot his ass up with cum. Seriously, masterful use of a Dutch angle. You've never seen anything like it (hopefully). The announcer's reedy voice cut in over the recap, announcing the beginning of the show.
"It's the time of year folks! Keep your eyes peeled and be ready to pick your new favorites, it's the Rookie Showcase! With a 40% retention rate from Debut this is one of the best crops yet! This week they will be duking it out for your, yes your, attention! Who will rise to the top and who will get pounded down to the bottom? Will we see a champion in the making?"
"Not bloody likely." A deep voice cut in.
Tonight the announcer was joined by Thor, who despite the name was actually some sort of British. Like a weird kind of British, you know what I mean, not Scottish or anything but you could understand about half of what he said, less when he got pissed off, and none when he was drunk. Look, I don't know what kind of fucking British he is (other than the asshole kind) but it probably has some sort of cutesy name like Pondle or Tosser, you know how the limeys are. Yeah, yeah, ignorant American doesn't know his geography, sue me.
The two of them bantered back and forth while Frosh and Hauly made their entrances, so I'll do their job for them. Frosh stood 5' 10" and weighed 185 pounds. He was wearing the brightest green hoodie that frankly shouldn't ever have been made over a pair of gray sweatpants. It took me a while to realize why Management would dress him up like that and once I realized why I hated them even more. It's because, you see, he's green.
Ha ha.
Anyways.
Long Haul came in only an inch taller at 5' 11" but weighed in at a whopping 250 pounds, though his bearish frame showed that not all of it was muscle. If that doesn't sound like a fair match up to you, I mean, what exactly have you been reading up until now? Frankly Frosh was lucky there was only one of Hauly.
Considering their last match, Management had decided to institute a ten minute time limit and to their credit the two of them did try to put on a show. They essentially alternated between Frosh trying to get some sort of leverage on Hauly and Hauly basically just sitting on Frosh trying to get his dick into... somewhere, his aim wasn't really clear. At the six minute mark Frosh had managed to make Hauly blow his load on the mat with a footjob after getting him in a rear naked choke. He tried to finish the match off by shoving his dick in Hauly's mouth but got overexcited and ended up cumming across Hauly's face instead. Still kinda hot, but a win it was not. Management called it as a draw at that point, otherwise we'd have been watching for another half-hour.
"At least they came." Rod commented. Frosh soon rejoined us, one of the benefits of a low intensity match was that it only took a low intensity shower to wash off.
Octagon and C-Suite were up next. If the Ring were only about fighting then these two should have been the main event. Between Oc's professional experience and C's amateur training the two of them put on a hell of a fight. C was at a disadvantage at first, dressed up in a full business suit as he was versus what I can only call Oc's slutty muay Thai get up. Ultimately that gave C the advantage though as he did not give one shit as his getup was progressively torn from his body. If this fight could have been won by submission or pin then Oc would have been the champ, but the best a submission could get you was a bonus. Oc managed to get C down a few times, but wasn't able to get his dick up enough to make it matter. In the end C caught Oc in a triangle choke-cum-facefuck that got him the win.
Poor fucking Beach Bum's match with Harley was a picture perfect squash. Beach Bum in his baby blue swim trunks and bleach blond hair swooping over on eye against stringy haired, leather clad, muscled up biker stud Harley, it was a feast for the eyes and cock. The only shot BB got in landed on Harley's tensed abs and only made him look like even more of a beast. Harley tossed him around the ring like a practice dummy, slamming him face first into the mat with his ass sticking up high and locking in a double hammerlock. The only reprieve BB got was that Harley took his time lubing him up since it wasn't like he was going to be fighting back. Harley took his time opening up BB's ass, getting a full four fingers in before he mounted him and rode him like a hog.
An attendant had come to fetch Gym away somewhere between the second and third finger going up BB's ass. He was up next. I'd hoped that BB would have lasted longer. Once the door shut my knee could not stop bouncing. I wanted to scream, or break something, or do anything, anything but just sit and watch again. Rod could easily see the state I was in and slid a quarter filled whiskey glass across the table to me.
"Just one mind," Rod said as he raised his own glass, "for Gym, and for the nerves."
I downed it, the soft burn a brief reprieve.
"Hey man," Frosh said beside me, "Gym's a beast. He's-"
"Got this," I finished for him, "I know." Frosh meant well though, and it was nice to have someone with more sympathy than Rod in the room this time.
Soon enough the music Management had assigned as Gym's entrance started playing and he made his way to the Ring. After his last display Management had given him a sleeveless yellow hoodie to wear though the rest of his gear had stayed the same. Gym had the hoodie unzipped and was counting off his abs for the camera as he made his way to the Ring. It was bizarre, he was acting like last week had never happened, like this was his debut.
My guts twisted in knots as Hill's entrance music took over, a thrumming rock guitar that must have been a cacophony in the Ring if it was being piped in there. When he stepped out my stomach did a flip. He'd changed up his gear too. Instead of the overalls he was wearing jean shorts that cut off just above the knee, his hairy chest covered by a wifebeater that somehow already had sweat stains on it, and a camo baseball cap to tie together the white trash ensemble. Seriously, his outfit could not have been better coordinated if it had been bought direct from a Kentucky Walmart.
I had my first gasp of hope when Gym didn't even allow Hill to get fully into the Ring. As he was stepping between the ropes Gym charged forward, hammering Hill hard with fist after fist, capping it off with a bulldog into the mat as he pulled Hill the rest of the way in. I was an idiot to worry if Gym was listening, it couldn't be more clear that he was as he gave Hill no chance at all to take the momentum back.
With a kick he rolled Hill onto his back, kneeling down across his neck while he pummeled his midsection, pressing his fist deep into Hill's gut while he writhed and choked on his back. The camera lovingly zoomed in on Hill's face as spittle flew from his mouth and his skin and eyes turned red.
"Hey! Hey!" Gym shouted. "Up here!" The cameraman obeyed Gym's command as Gym shrugged off his hoodie, baring the whole of his mountainously muscled chest. "Welcome to the gun show, baby!" He said to the camera while he pointed to his flexing bicep. I briefly panicked at the gloating, Hill was far from beaten, but when Gym seemed to be jostled by a failed counterattack he just stood up and started stomping hard into Hill's gut. The announcer noted that Gym's strategy seemed to be to target Hill's core.
"Pft," Thor answered, "That tosser wouldn't know strategy if it bit his dick off."
"Well luckily he's in the Ring now with an expert on getting his dick bitten." I could feel my cheeks (the face ones, perv) turning red at that comment and did my best to avoid any eye contact.
Gym gave Hillbilly a kick in the ribs to turn him on his stomach and landed an elbow drop into the center of his back, grinding his elbow as deep as he could into Hill's spine.
"By God he's trying to break him in half!" The announcer shouted.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Yessir."
Gym kept the pressure going on Hill with more elbows and some forearm smashes. He was doing it, he was really doing it! If he just kept beating Hill down and kept his position over Hill he'd just need to- and he started doing push-ups on Hills back.
Frosh was laughing hysterically while I just moaned a quiet. "Fuck."
"Hey," Rod said, "don't judge too quick, I bet there's good money right there." Rod was right of course, $500.
Whatever the financial wisdom of the move, tactically it would prove to be a mistake. Either Gym's hands slipped or Hill had managed to roll out from his grip, either way Gym slid forward and Hill was able to roll onto his back. There was just enough space between the two of them that, rather than scurry away as you might expect, Hill was able to jab a fist right into Gym's throat.
"Alright, maybe judge a bit." Rod conceded.
"Goddammit." I said through gritted teeth.
Hill crawled to his knees and pulled Gym's hands away from his throat so that he could jab him in the Adam's apple again. He followed up by grabbing Gym by the hair and slamming him face first into the mat.
"God fucking dammit!" I shouted, on my feet while Frosh huddled away from me. Definitely a good idea because I was ready to break somebody.
Hill got Gym on his back and started raining down punches to the head and chest before reaching down and jamming a thumb into each of Gym's eyes. Gym's angry yells quickly turned into panicked screams of animal pain, it cut into me like a knife to my heart. It took all of my willpower not to punch a hole in the TV, as if that would have helped anything. Hill was grinning and laughing like a madman as he mopped the mat with the back of Gym's head, his fingers digging so hard into Gym's eyes that I was terrified he would gouge them out.
Gym bucked and thrashed enough that he was able to dislodge Hill's grip and land some glancing blows against his chest. They struggled for dominance until Gym was able to get a hand on Hill's chest and forcefully shove him off. To his credit Gym was able to keep on Hill, stumbling his way through a kneeling clothesline that took Hill to the mat.
With a handful of Hill's hair Gym slammed him face first into the mat once or twice or six times. Gym rolled Hill on his back and mounted him, giving him a few more punches before pulling Hill's head up into his crotch. Either Hill was knocked out or he was enjoying it because he just lay limp while he got a full face of Gym's sweaty cock and balls. The close-up left no doubt that Gym was enjoying himself, the outline of his cock at full mast showed clearly through his tight workout shorts.
"Finish it now!" I was shouting at the screen. "Finish it now! Now!"
As soon as Gym let Hill's head drop it became clear he had been playing possum. Gym let out a blood curdling scream as Hill managed to get him by the balls.
"No!" I shouted, clawing at my hair in frustration. Frosh was on his feet too, even Rod was white knuckling his whiskey bottle.
As bad as it looked, Hill only used the grip to get Gym off him. While Gym recovered in a fetal position in the center of the Ring, Hill crawled to a corner, draping himself against the ropes. His heaving chest was drenched in sweat and it was clear from the close-up that Gym had done a number on him. I'll admit, that was satisfying to see.
The announcer was making a big show of wondering who would be the first to get back on their feet. I'll admit, it worked on me, it worked like hell on Frosh, the two of us were practically frothing at the mouth trying to encourage Gym on to his feet. Whoever was in charge of cameras wasn't being paid enough because what followed was nothing short of masterful. It was shot counter shot of the two of them, first Hill in the foreground with Gym in the back and then vice-versa as Hill tried to pull himself up in the corner and Gym tried to get the ropes.
They cut from a shot of Hill on his feet but doubled over in the corner to Gym gripping the top rope and pulling himself up. An eagle eyed viewer could see Hill in the background over Hill's shoulder adjusting his pants, but I noticed fucking nothing in the moment. I was just pumped and ready for Gym to flatten Hill into the corner and finish the job. Gym didn't help matters by beating his chest, stomping on the mat and charging full bore at Hill and straight into his fist. At this point the lesson was clear, Hill wasn't down until he was being dicked all the way down.
Gym hit the mat like a sack of potatoes and for a bit I was seriously scared he was dead. A trickle of blood was dripping down his forehead and it soon became clear why.
"Am I going blind or does Hillbilly have a pair of brass knuckles? Where the hell did he get those?"
"Pulled them out his ass, where the fuck do you think he got them you daft bellend?"
"That motherfucker." Rod said with genuine rage in his voice.
I couldn't even shout at this point. All I could do was watch as Hill leaned over Gym's lifeless body. He gave him a few test slaps to see if he was really out and when he got no response he grinned wide and laughed. He motioned out of the ring and the screen cut to a shot of a shaking camera as it moved up to the mat. Hill kneeled down next to Gym and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up so that we could get a good look at him. Gym's jaw hung slack, there wasn't anything left in him
"Is this your boy?" He asked me, giving Gym a slap. "This your boy? You better come and get him!" He grinned again, posing next to Gym with his brass knuckles pressed up against Gym's cheek.
A glass exploded on the wall next to the tv, it exploded because I hurled it with all of my strength. Come and get him? Oh I was ready to get him.
"Hang on!" Rod shouted as I stormed out of the green room. "They're not gonna let you interrupt a showcase match!"
I didn't listen to a single one of Rod's admonitions as they echoed down the hall behind me. It was a fairly direct path to the staging room which meant there wasn't any time for me to cool off before I got there. Not that it would have helped anything since my rage level was back at incandescent as soon as I saw the screen showing Hillbilly going balls deep down Gym's throat.
I charged the metal sliding doors to the Ring room and only succeeded in some painful percussion that rang through the small room and echoed in my ears and in my bones. I slammed my fist in a few more times on the off chance I was about to develop super strength. No luck.
"Open the fucking doors!"
"I can't." The attendant in the room said.
"I don't care what they fucking told you open those doors or I'll-"
"No I mean I physically can't. It's showcase rules, Management keeps them locked until the match is done. Doesn't matter what you do." She was definitely flustered but didn't seem at all afraid of my threats. Probably because of the two beefy guys standing in the doorway, that'd do it.
"Fuck!" I pounded on the door again and briefly scrabbled at it trying to pry it open but there was no way I was going to get a grip on it. On the tv the camera had zoomed in on Hill's victory fucking as Gym was slowly coming too and weakly trying to fight Hill off.
"Turn that fucking thing off."
"Sure thing boss." The attendant tapped at her tablet and the tv flicked off. The silence did little to calm me. I knew that just beyond those doors my best friend was getting destroyed again. And there wasn't a fucking thing I could do.
"Hey," the attendant said like she was talking to a rabid dog. "Why don't you get yourself freshened up, you're on next and since you're early you can take your time."
To be honest, I didn't really feel like douching right now. I didn't want to stand around waiting either. So I didn't do either.
"Are you the same one from last time?" I asked the attendant, who blinked at me in surprise.
"I am." She said with a cheerfulness that was entirely at odds with the environment, like she was a checkout clerk at a local store.
"It's hard to tell with the masks. What's your name?"
She paused for a moment before saying, "You can call me Jen."
"Jen what's it going to take to open this door?"
"Usually my fee is $200." Jen said, which was good to know. "But tonight it's completely out of my hands. Unless you want to talk to the GM, who isn't in this building, you're not going through until it's time for your match."
I was tempted to ask where the GM was, but I knew that was a pipe dream. It didn't take long anyways before Jen softly announced that the match was done. The doors slid open to reveal Gym's battered body being supported by two attendants.
"Gym, man..." My voice trailed off into nothing as Gym didn't even acknowledge me. I don't think he was even aware of what was going on around him. And what the fuck was I supposed to say anyways? I tried to warn him and he tried to listen, but Hillbilly had proved to be even more vicious than I could have predicted. The conclusion was unavoidable. I'd failed him. That reality sunk into my gut.
Honestly, I wanted to cry. But I'm a 21 year old guy from middle America which meant my body did a special alchemy which turned that desire into an unrelenting rage and urge for violence.
I got my wish when Jen said to me, "You're on in five."
This time, I remembered to stretch. The astute among you might remember that the singlet they'd given me was torn to shreds by the end of my first match. Management must have liked that because the singlet they gave me to replace it was made of latex and was skin tight. It was lucky I didn't tear it just on my way down here. This was also even more patriotic looking than the last one with stripes of red and blue along with white stars. Ironic, considering my opponent.
I practiced a few times getting the straps off quickly, slipping my hands under and up. The tightness of it slowed me down, and that delay could be critical in the Ring.
In the top right corner of the room the screen flicked back on and the announcer's voice filled the air.
"-king his way to the Ring, standing 6' 4" and weighing 235 pounds, he stands for the flag and kneels for a blowjob, it's Grunt!"
So he had 3 inches and 25 pounds on me. I was still ready to tear him apart. It almost looked like Grunt knew that too as he walked down the ramp to the Ring. He was wearing a baggy camo jacket with a pattern that matched the camo pants he was wearing along with his, you guessed it, camo hat. Just about the only thing he was wearing that wasn't camo were his boots. Those were brown.
He was a big guy, and the at ease position he took once he got in the ring only made him look bigger. Grunt was a ginger, his pale skin making him stand out like a beacon in the otherwise dark room of the Ring. He had a round face with a bit of a pug nose that gave him the natural look of a brawler, and in this case looks were not deceiving. Fuck, I just realized in that moment I could have tried to do at least a bit of research of my opponents like Hill claimed to have done. All I could remember of Grunt's first match was that he struggled with getting to completion while he facefucked Beach Bum. I wasn't going to let him make it that far this time around.
Jen started counting me down.
"Grunt is the largest of this crop of rookies, Thor, do you think that's going to give him an advantage in this match?"
"Sure, if he knows how to use it, otherwise that's just more meat for his opponent to chew on."
"We certainly know his opponent isn't opposed to a mid-match snack."
God, you wrestle for half your life, they don't call you a wrestler, but you bite one man's dick and suddenly you're the dick biter. This world I swear.
"Speaking of his opponent." The announcer said as Jen reached 1 and the doors opened. "Making his wa- no wait, charging his way to the Ring, I better be fast, standing 6' 1" weighing 210 pounds it's Varsity! Shit, somebody ring the bell!"
I was under the ropes by the time the announcer got to my name. My gambit luckily worked and Grunt was on the defensive, giving me the chance to spring forward on all fours and hit him at the ankle, knocking him on to his knee. Using his coat as leverage I pulled myself up to my feet. I grabbed the bottom of his jacket and yanked it up over his head, tangling up his arms, and revealing a tight, dark brown tank-top that barely contained his broad, well muscled back and barrel chest. I punched him in his exposed ribs and my god, reader, the pained grunt (heh) that came out of him made my dick twitch harder than any moan. Between my lust for vengeance and my lust for lust it was like a train engine was powering me as I punched him again and again, fists to his ribs, forearms to his back, a few kicks to the gut when I had the chance, I was thrashing him. The more he cried out of the harder I was on him.
During his beatdown Grunt had managed to shake his jacket off his head revealing his buzzcut red hair. I got him in a side headlock, now that it was free, and hip tossed him to the mat. Now on top of him, I cranked the headlock on tighter, forcing a low groan out of him. He tried to punch me in the sides to loosen my grip and I responded by punching him in the face until he was seeing stars. Each impact of my knuckles to his face was accompanied by a tingle of slight pain that felt like finally scratching an itch that had been bothering me all day. I ground my knuckle into his forehead and that was when he started screaming. Oh my god, I had to slow down or I was going to cum just from that.
Every now and then I did, vaguely, remember he was a guy just like me, a fellow human on the same journey. But... he wasn't just some guy. Every time I started to feel some sort of sympathy for him I would start having memories in couplets. Grunt and Hill hanging out in the common room, Hill jabbing Gym in the throat. Hill laughing at something Grunt said in the gym, Hill stomping on Gym's balls. Grunt and Hill huddled together conspiratorially at the dinner table, Hill coldclocking Gym with a pair of brass fucking knuckles. I punched Grunt full in the face, grinding my fist into his nose, hoping to break it. Was this justice? In the Ring it was. So no, no it wasn't. But it was a taste of revenge and, reader, I was starving.
Going for the nose proved to be a mistake. For all the pain it inflicted I basically also gave him the helping push he needed to escape from my headlock. Immediately Grunt hit me with a forearm to the back of the head that sent me sprawling on the mat and tried to get me with a mount on my back. I only just managed to roll onto my back and guard my head as he tried to ring my bell with punch after punch of his piston arms. Each hit rattled me, this guy didn't need any brass knuckles, with his leverage he jsut needed one hit to go through to knock me out. He knew it too.
"Come on!" He shouted at me, "Come on! You gonna go down easier than your friend?"
Anger will make you do crazy things, take crazy risks. Like rack your hands across a guys face who had all the leverage he needed to knock you out if you let your guard down. Lucky for me it worked, this time. Grunts hands instinctively went to his face. I took a page out of Hill's book and punched him in the throat. Having been on the receiving end of it a few times I knew it would give me the space I needed.
Grunt rolled off of me and the both of us scrambled to our feet. We faced off in low guard postures, cautiously circling each other.
"The fuck is your problem?" Grunt croaked out through his abused throat.
"You Hill's friend?"
Grunt gave me a hard stare in response.
"That's my problem."
I stepped towards him and he stepped back, which made me smirk.
"Little bitch."
We went to lock up but I was no dumbass, I knew he'd overpower me if given the chance, so I didn't give him the chance. I feinted to the side and wrapped around him with a full nelson. That wouldn't hold long either, so I wrapped a leg around one of his and tripped him, slamming him face first into the mat. I kneeled on the back of his head and finally took a chance to look at the requests for the first time.
The old reliables were all there. "Face in pits" for $200, "facesitting" for $100, "take off your boots" was only at $50 but that was sure to go up. Some were a bit more personalized, like "strap choke" for $250. Now there was an idea.
I moved so that both of my legs were trapping Grunts arms at his side while I slide a hand under the right strap of my singlet. The practice paid off and it came free smoothly. I grabbed it and wrapped it around Grunt's neck and pulled tight.
"He can be a right vicious fucker when he puts his mind to it, can't our Varsity?" Thor said with what almost sounded like admiration.
"When his blood is up it is up!" The announcer agreed. I think.
Grunt's struggling started to weaken, which is when I remembered rule number 1, so I reluctantly let him go. I quickly followed by pulling his head up, a harder prospect when your opponent has a shaved head, and locked on a modified dragon sleeper with his face secure in my pit. The sounds of his choking on my sweat and pit hair brought me dangerously to the edge.
"Lick it bitch!" I shouted at him as I cranked back, his hot breath tickling my skin as he groaned. I pounded his exposed chest a few times just so I could feel that again. He tried to take in a breath but just started gagging. If he had any kinks armpits were definitely not one of them, which really only made me enjoy this more. Inspiration struck and I looked towards where I was pretty sure a camera was.
"Hey!" I shouted, pointing towards Grunt. "Is this your boy?"
There were two more requests on the screen now that seemed to me to go together like chocolate and peanut butter. "Fish hooks" for $50 and "make him smile" for $175. Grunt had a reputation around the house for always having a sour look on his face, I guess the Patrons caught on to that quick too.
Grunt was out of it enough that I was able to drag him over to the edge of the ring and drape him over the middle rope. I made sure he was down by pressing down with my knee on his back. He sputtered but wasn't able to fight back. At the edge of the room I saw that one of the attendants had a camera over his shoulder and I motioned him forward. I mounted Grunt's back and stuck my fingers into the sides of his mouth and pulled up.
"Smile for the camera!" I said as Grunt groaned. He wasn't quite as out of it as he seemed because he managed to hit me in the ribs with a back elbow and then another that knocked me off him. He was quick on his feet but I was quicker. He went for a clothesline which I ducked under. Rebounding off the rope he tried coming at me again but I avoided again. As he turned to rebound off the rope again and followed after him. I ducked under his punch and got my arm across his neck. Pressing back on his shoulder with my head and pulling him down over my crossed leg I hit him with an improvised flatliner that drove his face into the mat again.
"Ooooh," the announcer crooned, "I don't think he's getting up from that."
Judging by how still Grunt was I might have agreed with the announcer, but I'd seen Hill fight and this was his buddy. So I kicked him in the ribs a few times to roll him over. He certainly had that glassy stare as he looked up at the ceiling. I slapped him across the face, y'know, to check. I slapped again.
"No?" I slapped him again. "Nothing? Shit, you're actually out."
The urge to dominate took over and I stepped over and dropped down with my ass to Grunt's face and struck a pose. It was a huge risk, and honestly the money wasn't worth it. But I had a point to prove. The only sign of life coming from Grunt was his slow breathing against my taint. It was time to finish this.
I dragged Grunt over to the edge of the ring again, this time draping him back first across the middle rope. I hooked his arms over and just to be safe I pulled the bottom rope over his shoulders to keep him trapped. I freed my other shoulder and pulled my singlet down, releasing my rock hard dick. After Alpha's assault last week I'd shaved off the rest of my pubes and they'd only just started growing out again. The skin tight latex mixed with the exertions of the match had built up a funk in my crotch which I was quick to rub in Grunt's face. That seemed to work like smelling salts as he started to struggle, however weakly. But it was too little too late. He was under my power now.
I shoved my dick as far as it would go into his mouth. That woke him up as he started gagging. There is not a more beautiful sound in the world. I started fucking his face as he vainly fought to free himself. I picked up my pace, hammering him harder and harder. I'd been in his position once and I knew if I relented even slightly I'd be ending the night with bite marks on my shaft. So jackhammered the back of his throat, not giving him the chance to clamp down.
With my unrelenting assault his mouth was starting to fill with saliva, dripping between his lips and my dick and over my balls. His mouth was only getting hotter and hotter and my dick was so hard I thought it would break. As I got close to orgasm I gripped the back of his head and pushed my dick as far into the throat as it could go. Swear to god it felt like I was cumming straight down his throat as I clamped his head in my legs.
"Yeah," I growled, "yeah take it all you fucking slut." I pumped into him once, twice, three times, a fourth, before a finally pulled out, a long string of spit and cum connecting us together. Immediately Grunt started hacking and coughing up my cum and his saliva onto his chest, which brought up an anger in me I had never felt before. I wiped up his chest and forced my cum back in his mouth.
"You swallow it! Swallow it!"
He had no fight left in him. He licked my hand clean and swallowed it all.
The cameraman was still there and I mounted Grunt again, my balls resting on his head as I pointed down. "Are you watching Hillbilly? You watching your boy? You're next! You're fucking next!"
At least that's what I was hoping but, well, you'll see.
