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.
Pride Before the Fall
So there I was, in a plush box overlooking a sex fighting show getting choked out by a half-drunk gym bunny millionaire. It's one of those moments that really makes you take stock of your life. You start asking questions like "how did I get here?" and "would a murder charge really be that bad?" At least that's what I was thinking as Max pulled me by the neck up onto the couch. He'd wrapped his legs around my torso to try and secure the hold. It was not secure, to be clear, but he had the leverage and my muscles were still so sore that I would have struggled to break free.
With a surprising burst of strength Max hauled me up on the couch so that I was laying on top of him. I felt his hard nipples rub against my shoulder blades while the buckle of his belt bit into the small of my back. Really should have taken his pants off, lesson for next time. His warm breath traced across my skin as he brought his mouth up against my ear, nibbling at it just a bit too fiercely to be pleasurable.
"I did not spend so much money to be your masseuse," he said in a harsh whisper. His free hand, despite his words, began tracing over my torso. "I paid for this body." First he pinched my nipple, twisting it until the pain was sharp enough that I let out a gasp. From there his fingers spread until they had wrapped around my pec. "I love this body," he continued, his fingers caressing my muscle. "I love to see it working." His fingers dug in, clawing at my skin, digging into my chest. My gasping turned to a pained moan. "I love to see it hurt." I could hear the wicked grin on his face, especially as his clawing fingers tightened further and further around my pec. "I love it when you scream." The pain got so intense I was sure his fingernails had broken my skin, it felt like he was close to ripping my pec right off my chest but even then I refused to scream. No way in hell was I giving this amateur the satisfaction.
Instead I struggled. I brought my hands up and managed to get in-between his arm and my throat, like I said it wasn't very secure. That earned me a fist to the gut that sent the breath out of me, followed up by Max's fingers now clawing at my abs. "Does it hurt a lot after your fight?" He asked with lurid glee in his voice. It did, in fact, hurt like a bitch the way his fingers wrapped around my muscles, digging into them, under them, like he was trying to pry them off of me.
He tightened his hold around my neck, threatening to cut off my air as he pressed my body tight against his. His fingers ceased their clawing at my abs and instead delved even lower, sneaking under my waistband and through my pubes. When the tip of his finger brushed against the base of my dick I let out a gasp that told him he was on the right path. He pulled is hand back and unbuttoned my shorts, zipped them open, and pulled my hard dick out of my jock, letting it flop against my quickly reddening stomach. "You enjoy this, huh?" He whispered in my ear. "This makes you hard, to suffer?"
His hand gripped my dick and squeezed. I had been fighting against it from the start but now I had no choice but to let out a scream. My mistake was swiftly rewarded as Max's grip tightened even further, squeezing my dick as hard as his hand would allow. The throbbing pain of Hill's bite came screaming back as Max's palm wrapped around where Hill's teeth had been not so long ago. Despite the pain (ok, yes, because of it) my dick grew harder in Max's grip. Eventually he began to stroke it. "What is it like to be such a freak?" He asked me.
I didn't answer, not because I didn't have a pithy response (obviously I did) but because there wasn't enough room for my jaw to move. Ok, so actually I did answer but my answer came out as 'mm gmm fgmmfmmfm.' Another harsh squeeze of my hard dick sent a spasm all the way down to my toes as a shock ran up my spine. "Hang on," Max said mischievously, "I think I know what you like. He released the chokehold only to haul my head further back, locking my face in his armpit in a very sloppy dragon sleeper, and not sloppy in a good way. He was basically just pushing my face down with his armpit and, as a connoisseur of the underarm, I must say I was sorely disappointed. His pit was completely shaved down to the skin and the only smell invading my nostrils was a mixture of deodorant and cologne leaving a sickly sweet chemical smell in my nose. Seriously, not even a whiff of the man himself to be found. I knew myself well enough at this point to just be annoyed rather than humiliated. It was almost bad enough to kill my boner if I wasn't just waiting for my moment to escape.
Like I said, his hold quite frankly wasn't a hold. His legs were doing more to keep me in place than his 'sleeper' was. Now maybe a good whore would just have let him have his win, he could keep rubbing his aseptic armpit in my face and jacking me off to his heart's (or other organ's) content. But he didn't buy the 'jobber' package he bought the 'wrestling' package. And if I'm not getting paid to lose, well, then I'm not going to lose.
For the sake of his ego (I'm a bad whore, not a dumb whore) I put up a pretend struggle, wriggling between his legs, desperately, desperately trying to push his legs off of me before I finally just barely managed to rip my head out of his sleeper. He let out a surprised yelp and, fortuitously for me, his legs loosened their grip allowing me to spin around and pounce on him like a cat with a mouse. In an instant I had his arms pinned above his head, my dick still flopping around semi-hard against his stomach as I glared down at him.
"Think you're clever, huh?" I asked, my eyes tracing over him, his shocked expression, his heaving chest, his hard nipples, his beautifully sculpted pecs and abs, the deep Adonis belt that stretched under his belt-line. "I hope you know that was your high water mark," I said as I gripped his wrists with one hand while the other ran down his body, starting with his chin, going over his chest, down, down, down until I was pulling his belt loose and opening up his pants. As I did so I leaned in close, my mouth just inches away from his, close enough I could feel his breath on my lips. "From here on out, you belong to me," I said. At that moment his rock hard dick escaped from his boxer-briefs.
Suddenly, Max remembered he'd asked to wrestle. He pressed up with all his strength, lifting his wrists off of the couch, almost making it half-way up between us. Credit where it's due, the man was strong. We'll ignore the fact my muscles were still screaming from my match and only slightly energized by the cocaine still making its way through my system. In the end it didn't matter, I had the leverage working in my favor and I slammed his wrists back down. I couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across my lips as I watched him realize the reality of his situation. I leaned in, not just my head but my whole body, aligning things so that my six pack perfectly covered his hard dick, pressing it between our bodies. I could feel his dick throbbing already just from the contact.
"This is what you wanted, right?" I asked him. "You love this body, right?" I rolled my stomach, pressing and massaging his dick with my muscles. We had both already been exerting ourselves enough that a light sheen of sweat on both our stomachs acted as an ersatz lube while I jacked him off with my abs. "You like this?" I asked teasingly while he gasped, his dick twitching against my stomach.
Max let out a noise that sounded something like a groan or a moan he was trying to hold in. His dick was hard as steel against me, his writhing turning more to wriggling as he all but humped against my core, his hips rocking back and forth while his arms put up a token effort to escape my grip. I could feel him getting close to a release and my lessons from nights spent with Tommy coaxing out second, third, and fourth loads kicked in.
I dragged myself up Max's body until his dick was standing straight up and he was humping the air. "Winners get to cum," I said as my dick thwacked against his cheek, "losers get fucked." His eyes flared, maybe excited maybe afraid. I wondered if I'd ever looked like that. Is that what Hillbilly saw before he'd speared me with his dick? Speaking of spearing I rubbed my dick across Max's face, the tip tracing over his quivering lips. "You ever tasted dick before?" I asked him.
"No," he whispered. I'm not sure if he was answering or begging but either way I shoved my cock into his mouth. Hey, he paid for sex and wrestling and he was getting sex and wrestling. He immediately gagged, which was flattering considering I didn't even push my dick in all the way yet. I can hear you wondering right now dear reader 'how good is a closeted millionaire/billionaire at sucking dick?' And the answer is not very. Honestly I was lucky his teeth didn't end up adding more marks to my dick with the way he was thrashing. But it wasn't about my pleasure, it was about his. And what he wanted, maybe subconsciously, was to be a cumdump. At least I surmised as much by the fact that for all his struggling, his thrashing, his impotent fighting against my hold over him he didn't once tap, make a sign, or try to say the safe word.
I wasn't going to cum from this and it looked likely that he wasn't going to either so I knew I had to change tactics. First I pulled my spit shined dick out of his mouth and put on my best cocky smirk. "So how'd you like it?"
He cursed in his native language, or I assumed he was cursing by his tone, before saying "I will make you pay for that."
"I really don't think you will," I said. Whatever he might have been saying I could see the twitching of his lips as he fought off a smile. More than that, I saw another twitching out of the corner of my eye as his dick swelled to full mast. Good, gotta make sure you enjoy yourself. I took that opportunity to shift our positions. As soon as his arms were free he tried to get a grip on me, pull be down under him, but despite my exhaustion I was able to read his body well enough to evade his attack. I wrapped an arm around his neck and maneuvered us so that we had essentially switched positions from before so that I was lying on the couch while he was trapped above me, except this time both our pants were down and my hard dick was poking at the crevice of his ass cheeks.
"That feels better, don't you think?" I asked Max as he sputtered in frustration. Wrapping my legs around his waist I had him trapped tight. All his struggling accomplished was rubbing his exposed ass against my dick. "That eager to get fucked, huh?" I whispered in his ear. I think this was the moment he realized it might really happen, that he really might get a dick in his ass. With the way he was struggling I started to worry he might have forgotten the safe word. Then I remembered how he ambushed me and I figured I could afford to be a little mean before I checked.
It really does bear mentioning just how good a body Max had. Really he should have been the whore with the way his body was just so perfectly sculpted. The deep definition of his abdominals, the cleft between his pecs with his skin stretched taut, the beautiful vein that ran down the length of his bicep. He was sculpted like a god, his body demanded to be adored, which is exactly what I started to do. "God I'm glad I chose you for tonight," I whispered in his ear as I groped his chest with my free hand, "coulda been stuck with some ugly old fuck who'd make me suck his wrinkled dick and say it tasted like sugar. Instead I get your tight ass to play with all night long." Maybe it was the fact that I'm a sadist or maybe it was just the cocaine but hearing the way Max moaned at that in fearful pleasure really did make me feel like a god. Needless to say I was rock hard.
I stopped my groping with a twist of his nipple before grabbing his hair and pulling back his head. "Here," I said, "let me show how to do a dragon sleeper properly." I clenched my legs tighter to make sure he couldn't escape and yanked his head back, trapping his face in my now sweaty pit. He began writhing immediately, even before I had begun cranking his head back. His begging was muffled by my armpit and I couldn't help the half-maniacal laughter that started to spill out of me as he thrashed in my grip. That all came to an end when I saw him lift up a hand with crossed fingers, the safe sign we'd agreed on for when he wasn't able to speak.
Immediately I released the hold. My instructions for if a client used a safe word were to get my hands off of him, give him some space, and let him recuperate. The first and third parts were easy enough but the second was a little tricky. My hands were out to the side and he was left gasping in air, his sweaty chest heaving as he lay on top of me. At this point giving him space would have meant shoving him off of me, which is not what I expected Management would want me to do. So I took a little initiative and asked him, "Are you ok?"
He nodded.
"Sorry if that was too much," I said, "did I hurt you?"
"No," he said through gasping breaths, "it was just a lot. The armpit."
I had enough self awareness to feel a bit of a hint of shame poke through the cocaine. "Yeah, maybe that's not to everyone's taste." Like I said, a hint.
"No, no," Max said almost desperately, "it was just... a lot. More than I was expecting."
The entrances for the next match were just starting now. I had been tuning out the announcer as he gabbed with Alpha God until I suddenly tuned right the fuck back in as I heard him say "-6' 10" and weighing 316 pounds! He's the lumberjack who'll split you in half! BRAAAAAWNY!"
Max was still gasping out something but I wasn't listening. I was too busy watching a hulking slab of meat cheerfully make his way down the ramp to take part in a sex fight. And my god what a beautiful slab of meat he was. His outfit hadn't really changed from when we went clubbing together, boots, jeans, and a button up flannel that was completely unbuttoned and showing off his beautiful hairy chest. His hair was slicked back and his thick, shaggy beard reached almost all the way down to his chest giving him a sort of suave caveman look. Which it turns out is exactly my type. He was grinning from ear to ear, giving out high fives wherever he was asked for them and posing for pictures with fans, an arm slung around their shoulders like they'd been pals all their lives.
When he got to the ring he stepped over the ropes (be still my heart) and tossed his flannel aside, revealing the suspenders holding up his pants but just out of the way enough to show his big nipples poking out from the forest of his chest hair. Subconsciously I had started to stroke Max's stomach, maybe intending for my own. I was suddenly very involved in the ongoing match.
"Why don't I give you a break," I muttered to Max, "I can fuck you later."
"You will not fuck me," Max said with a warning tone.
"Sure, whatever you want, you're the one paying."
"No," Max said, "you will not fuck me because I will stop you from fucking me."
I just laughed at that. "Sure," I said, and went back to stroking his body as he lay sprawled on top of me.
We were getting into the really consequential matches now. This one was to determine if Jack could advance to the midcard. Since his mentor had retired before he had a chance to beat him Jack's opponent tonight was a midcarder called Spike. As a rookie he'd been Chainz (yes with a z) and his gimmick was that he was a maximum security prisoner even though the dude wasn't on lease, hadn't even committed a crime! Real stolen valor if you ask me. All of his sun tanned skin below the neck was tatted up, every inch of his body bulging with muscle to the point he barely had a neck. As a rookie he'd worn the stereotypical orange jumpsuit pants with a chain belt but as a midcarder he'd switched things up, wearing black and red vinyl trunks with black boots. His head was shaved and his ears pierced all over and his face in a permanent scowl to really sell his "I'm gonna fuck you up" energy.
He was a mean motherfucker with a reputation for brutality even in comparison to the usual brutality of the Ring. From what I understood through osmosis he was one of Mauler's mentees which sort of made him Hillbilly's Ring older brother. According to Guido his fighting style was like Hill's but given steroids, an energy drink, and an untreated anger disorder. So much like Hillbilly in fact that before the bell had even rung he was charging in against Jack. This wasn't the first time those two had tangled though and Jack was ready for him. Before Spike could even throw a punch Jack had grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back, sending him rolling across the ring. With a grin Jack wagged a finger at him. Something about his energy made it seem more endearing rather than cocky. That something was probably my massive crush that I was in no way acknowledging.
Spike pounded the mat in frustration and jumped back to his feet. Without a moment of waiting he charged back in, ducking Jack's attempt to grab him and socking him hard right in the liver, winding him. Spike followed up with a series of strikes to Jack's gut, doubling him over. He grabbed Jack around the head and got ready to bulldog him to the mat, but as he leapt up Jack grabbed him and tossed him up higher than he was probably expecting to go, sending him crashing down again. Spike wouldn't let up, jumping to his feet again and try and go in for another attack.
Now it might sound like Spike's a bit of a fireplug and next to Jack that is kind of how he looked. But that was next to Jack, in reality he was as tall as I was and fifty pounds heavier, and that extra weight was all muscle. Against just about any other undercarder he would have been embarrassingly dominant. Jack was a different story. Jack, just from his height and weight alone, was practically a force of nature. If Spike wanted to beat him he had to take him down now, and that was looking increasingly unlikely.
The real surprise came when Spike went in for his third attack. Before he could even make contact Jack grabbed him by the back of the head and spiked him (hah!) into the mat like he was swatting a basketball away from the hoop. Jack's plan was clearly to keep Spike down because he immediately mounted his back, trapping Spike's arms under his legs and rattling him with a series of forearm blows to the back and shoulders. He then planted one hand in the middle of Spike's shoulders to hold him down and with the other pulled down the back of Spike's trunks, unleashing his plump ass cheeks.
"We're barely a minute in and Brawny's already going for the win!" The announcer shouted astounded.
Spike started scrambling, clawing at the mat like a trapped bug stuck under Jack's strength. Bug really is the right word because Jack would probably have paid more attention to a fly than he did to his supposed opponent as he fumbled with his jeans to get his dick out. It really did look like the match was going to be over fast. Max, still sprawled on top of me, started breathing heavy and muttering something.
"Stop," he gasped, "stop I'm gonna-" It was then I realized that I had started stroking his dick at some point. His body was already starting to seize up as an orgasm was rising in him. I just laughed and gave his dick a squeeze as I kept jacking him.
"I said stop!" He shouted, twisting around so that we were face to face and grabbing at my wrists to pin my hands above my head. More than anything I was annoyed that I couldn't focus on the match anymore. Or really, for now. Max leered down at me, triumphant. "That's right, you do what I tell you to do, bitch."
It took all of my strength not to roll my eyes. To get my point across to Max in a more sexy way I instead lifted my hips and hooked my legs underneath his armpits and flipped him onto his back on the couch. A brief tussle ensued that ended when I threw him sprawling over the table and pulled his arms behind his back and gripping his wrists with one hand, leaving him trapped on his knees. All it took was a tug on the back of his pants to expose his defenseless ass. I'll never forget the yelp he let out as I ran a single finger across his puckered hole.
"What- No- Sto- Ah!" His protests cut off when I stuck my middle finger in his hole and hooked it.
"Quiet," I ordered him, "my show is on."
Back in the ring Spike had managed to escape a dicking down from Jack but still hadn't been able to take the initiative. Jack had managed to snag him into a grapple, one which he was quickly getting taking control of. With a burst of energy he scooped Spike up and slammed him down to the mat hard. This was the first hit that really seemed to rattle Spike as he writhed on the mat, his back beautifully arched as he absorbed the pain. Jack, full of either confidence, arrogance, or sympathy , stepped back and let him start to rise. When he got to his knees Spike suddenly lunged forward and tried to drive a forearm up between Jack's legs, but Jack dodged out of the way.
His forgiveness having run dry, Jack didn't leave any space for Spike to recover and scooped him up in his arms in a crushing bearhug. Or at least that was his intent, Jack only just got his hands clasped when Spike racked his eyes. The pain was enough that Jack let out a shout and loosened his grip enough for Spike to escape. Not wasting any time, Spike ran and bounced off the ropes, trying to build up speed enough to take Jack down with a hit. Jack saw it coming though and ducked under the clothesline Spike tried to hit him with. Spike rebounded off the opposite ropes and came back at him again. Jack sidestepped him and gave him a shove, messing up his balance and sending him over the ropes. Only a desperate grab of the top rope stopped Spike from falling flat on his ass outside the ring.
"What a humiliation this is for Spike, he's getting tossed around by a guy from the undercard!" The announcer said.
"Someone had to be the sacrifice," Alpha God observed. He was an asshole but he was right. Jack was almost undefeated in his division, his size alone would have been enough but he had skill to go with it. Management needed him up against the real competitors and with his mentor gone that meant they needed someone to be his gatekeeper who could put on a show but was still likely to lose. Made me wonder who Spike pissed off to be given the match. He sure wasn't just taking a dive though.
Jack was starting to look annoyed at this back and forth, or really this forth and forth. Everything he did seemed to barely slow Spike down. He stalked over to the ropes where Spike was still reeling on the apron but before he could grab him Spike got him first. He grabbed Jack by the head and jumped down from the apron, using the full weight of his body to drop Jack's throat across the top rope. Jack launched back reeling, writhing on his back while Spike took a breather outside the ring.
"I- am- you- destroy you!" Max said through gasps as I finger fucked him. I was already two in and that outburst proved that he needed a third. Max barely made more than a squeak when my ring finger joined my middle and my pointer opening up Max's hole.
"Don't worry," I said, doing my best to hide my frustration at the turn in Jack's fortune, "I'll fuck you soon."
"I am the one that fucks!" Max half yelled half moaned. I gave my fingers a twist and that shut him up with another gasp.
Down in the arena Spike had grabbed one of Jack's legs from outside the ring and rammed it into the ring post. Jack cried out in pain for the first time in the match and continued to do so as Spike rammed his leg again and then again into the ring post. There was no mercy in that move, just cruelty and pain. Jack was screaming, roaring in frustration and loath as I am to admit it I wasn't hating the sound of it. Spike certainly seemed to be into it as he kept the assault on Jack's leg up. It was his best chance to take Jack out and Spike was doing everything he could to make sure it stuck. That chance was lost when Jack used his uninjured leg to kick Spike square in the chest, knocking him against the barrier. Jack rolled under the bottom rope and limped over to where Spike was still on his ass recovering from the unexpected restart to his heart.
When Jack tried to get Spike back on his feet Spike lashed out with a fist to his gut that seemed to annoy Jack more than hurt him. Jack responded with a punch of his own that almost seemed to knock Spike into the air before he doubled over. Jack followed up with a front headlock, holding Spike in place with a hand on his back, and absolutely hammering him with knees to the midsection, one, two, three, four, five times. The fifth one was strong enough to fully lift Spike off his feet, momentum which Jack kept going by grabbing the waistband of Spike's trunks and lifting him up fully vertically in the air.
In a show of absolutely dominant strength Jack held him up there, all 260 pounds of him, seemingly without a care in the world. He even took Spike for a walk around the ring, stopping to take an offered drink from a fan. We all got a close up of him putting the bottle to his lips, the undulating of his throat as he downed the whole thing in one go, and his grin as he gave the bottle back, all while still holding Spike up helplessly in the air. When he was finally ready to end it he held a hand up to his mouth and the crowd joined in with him as he shouted "Tiiiiiimberrrrr!"
Jack fell back, suplexing Spike into the hard ground outside the ring. Spike was almost too hurt to writhe now, just slowly twisting on the ground trying to hold in the pain in his back. Jack, meanwhile, got back to his feet in no time, though the way he held a hand on his leg that had been slammed into the ring post showed he wasn't getting out of this match scot-free. Still, compared to Spike he was basically untouched and spike was supposed to be the veteran in this match. Basically everyone in the building knew it was over for him now, but Jack still had a show to put on.
Grinning to the crowd Jack pulled at his suspenders, snapping them against his two big, hairy, watermelons of pecs, making them bounce for good measure. His hard nipples were poking out of his carpet of fur and hypnotizing me with their dancing. My mind drifted off, wondering what it would be like to suck on his tit while his thick, calloused fingers opened me up. Max let out a whimper as my fingers went in deeper than I'd intended. Ah fuck it, he's probably loose enough, I thought. Plus I'm gonna blow if I hold off any longer.
"Well, ready to get fucked?" I asked with maybe a bit more malice than is wise for a whore.
"You are not fucking me," Max seethed, "I am fucking you!" He turned on me and tried to get me around the shoulders in some sort of something. I don't think he had a plan, just a last bit of fight. I quickly got him in a side headlock and took him down to the couch. Keeping him pinned with my body I leaned down and picked up the complementary bottle of lube that had gotten knocked in the floor sometime during my struggle with Max and got to work slicking up his asshole. He struggled against me but I was beginning to think he wasn't putting all of his fight into it. Or maybe he was and I just had coke strength working in my favor, hard to say in the moment.
Anyways as I was getting Max ready to be fucked Jack was doing the same with Spike. Grabbing him by the back of the neck he had hauled Spike up and whipped him up against the apron before rolling him into the ring. Apparently Spike was the last person to know he was going to get fucked because as Jack was climbing over the ropes Spike used his last burst of energy to launch himself up, draping his body over the top rope and letting it go again, smacking Jack right in the balls with the rebound. A cry of sympathetic pain reverberated through the hall as every guy in there winced at the sight. Jack doubled over as he stumbled into the ring, seeming to use all his strength to keep on his feet. Spike rushed to the corner, climbing up to the turnbuckle, trying to get any and every leverage he could manage.
Spike was sweating, his canvas of tattoos shining under a sheen of sweat as he perched on the top of the turnbuckle. He waited, perched like a hawk for Jack to stumble into position before leaping. It was his best bet to regain the initiative, using gravity, his own weight, and the damage he'd done to Jack's leg earlier to try and take him down. It wasn't enough. He slammed into Jack with a crossbody but Jack was ready for him, catching him out of the air and holding him across his chest.
Jack laughed. A deep, rumbling kind of laugh that the mic's could pick up. "Just give it up, bud," he said, "you're done!" Spike answered with an ill aimed punch to Jack's side that didn't even make him flinch. Jack just shrugged at Spike's response, which was an impressive move considering he was carrying an entire man when he did it. Most of the other powerhouses in the Ring would have made a show of lifting Spike high up over their heads, tossing him this way and that and just generally showing off how big and strong their muscles were.
Jack didn't do that. Jack didn't need to. To say his body was a weapon would be obvious, we're all fighters in the Ring. But where my body's a sword and Hillbilly's is a dagger, and Gym's is a hammer, Jack's body is a nuclear bomb. To finish Spike off he simply held him close against his chest, got up on his tip toes, and fell forward. Spike's back hit the canvas sandwiched between the mat and Jack's massive, hard, hairy chest. Pushing off of his opponent with his big hands planted on Spike's chest and stomach Jack got to his feet. He ran to the ropes, rebounded, and right as he reached Spike's supine form he leaped up, splashing his entire 300 pound mountain of muscles right on top of Jack with a force that shook the ring to the point I worried it would collapse.
As big a guy as Spike was Jack was bigger. His back almost blocked Spike's entire body from view from where I was sitting. It was clear at this point that Spike had left the building and it was just his body that was left, even the toughest guy can only take so much punishment and it was clear that having any entire maple tree worth of a man crushing his body into the canvas was enough to take him out. Jack got up and straddled Spike's chest with a big toothy smile for the crowd, like a dog who'd finally found the bone. He flexed a bicep, showing off the deep, cavernous, hairy darkness of his armpit.
Scooting a bit forward on Spike's lifeless body Jack reached down and palmed his opponent's head and pulled it up into his crotch. His legs were so thick and his hands so big that Spike's head almost disappeared as the cause of his imminent loss was literally rubbed in his face. To the delight of the crowd (and me) he pushed Spike's head back and forth as if he was getting a blowjob. While he humiliated his opponent Jack pulled down the straps that had been covering his shoulders, leaving his massive sweaty chest now completely bare.
It was too much, even without touching my dick I was ready to blow. By the feel of it Max was ready too, my fingers were all but slipping out of his gaping hole. My client was still putting up a struggle so I snaked my arm around his neck and held him in place, taking a page from Jack, using the weight of my body pressing him down on the couch. With my free hand I squeezed out a bit of lube onto my dick and gave it a stroke. God, that alone was almost enough to make me blow then and there. I lined myself up and when the tip of my dick touched just at his cheeks he let out a little whimper, then when it pressed up against his hole his breathing picked up.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"I am going to kill you," he seethed.
"No you won't," I said as I slowly pressed my dick between his cheeks into his tight hole.
Max let out the moan of a virgin bottom being inducted into the greatest pleasure he's ever felt in his life. For the moment he gave up the fight as he felt what a good dick inside his ass could do. I started off slow, gentle even, didn't want to scare him after all.
Down in the ring Jack was being many things but I don't think gentle would be one of them. He had kept Spike's face trapped in his crotch as he stood back up, dragging Spike with him until his opponent was on his knees leaning against him. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his thick, hard, uncut cock and let it slap against Spike's cheek. There's something fascinating about Jack and his dick, 'cause when you first look at him naked you stop and think 'yes, that is a well proportioned man, everything looks like it should' and then you remember, no, this man is 6' 10" and massive, his dick should not look normal sized by comparison, that's not how that works. See the reason that in a picture or from a distance Jack's naked body looked like any other incredibly hot, jacked dude is because his thick chode was Guido levels of long and Papa Bear levels of thick. Yeah, Spike was in for a rough time, shoulda gone gentler on him I guess.
Well not yet, at least. Jack started out with the kindest thing he could have done and shoved his dick as far into Spike's mouth as it would go. Out of reflex I did the same thing with Max, pushing myself balls deep in his ass and making him cry out, probably the equivalent of 'fuck!' in his native language. Spike wasn't feeling so compliant though, with what consciousness he had left he sent a weak punch up at Jack. He laughed that off, but then something happened that changed his demeanor completely. Turns out Hill and I weren't the only dick biters in the ring. Jack let out an agonized yell, rising to a pitch higher than you'd expect from a guy that big. He absolutely clobbered Spike over the head with one of his meaty fists, sending the guy back down to the mat. Not satisfied with that Jack rained down stomp after stomp after stomp after stomp on Spike's prone body, crushing him into the mat. It was one of the rules of the Ring, bite a dick and suffer the consequences.
One of those consequences being Jack's new dedication to his utter destruction, gripping Spike's trunks and pulling them all the way down to his ankles leaving him completely exposed. Then, gripping him by the throat, Jack hauled him up like he was doing a dumbbell row before chokeslamming him back down. It had looked like he was planning that to be the start of something more elaborate but he ended up just drumming Spike's head against the mat, keeping a hold of his throat and lifting and slamming him without mercy. Oh, he was mad mad. My dick twitched inside of Max as I watched it happen, his ferocity, his anger. The few matches I'd seen of Jack's hadn't been anything like this. Usually more time was spent on him fucking his opponent than beating him, seeing Jack have to exert himself made me wonder what else I hadn't seen of him.
Still gripping Spike by the throat Jack's free hand went to Spike's balls, seizing them in his iron grip and crushing them. Spike's legs flailed as he came back to full, horrible consciousness, a silent scream coming from his mouth but no air getting through Jack's choking hold. And Jack wasn't done yet. With one grip on Spike's throat and another on Spike's balls he deadlifted his 250 pound opponent off the mat and held him high up over his head. My god what a sight that was, his monster of a dick at full mast sticking out over his jeans, his dense muscles covered in a forest of hair all flexing as he put every last one of them to use, his hairy pits on full display as he extended his bulging arms over his head, that look of absolute focus on his face. Jack held his opponent there just to make a point before tossing him up, stepping forward, and letting Spike slam face first into the mat. There was no flailing coming from Spike anymore.
God I was close now, too close, I didn't want to cum just yet. I pulled back a bit so that my chest wasn't pressed up against Max's back and took a grip of his hips, fucking him doggy style on the couch while he moaned like a whore, trapped in a new level of ecstasy he could never have imagined. Jack, meanwhile, looked ready to put an end to his opponent too. He wrapped his massive arms around Spike's stomach and hauled his naked opponent back up into the air, only this time there wasn't a slam that followed. Instead his biceps flexed as he crushed Spike's body against his massive chest in a reverse bearhug. Spike's body folded in on itself as the last bit of his resistance was annihilated in Jack's unstoppable power. Jack shook his opponent this way and that, savaging him like a rabid dog until Spike's head rolled limply to the side. All the while Spike's half flaccid dick flopped around limply, a show for everyone watching how weak and useless he'd become.
In another display of his strength he held Spike in place with just one arm, his free hand going down and adjusting his dick to rest right against Spike's ass. With a thrust of his hips he was in, spearing Spike on his massive dick. Jack was too enthralled in rage and lust to choose one particular way of fucking his opponent so he seemed to alternately randomly between thrusting with his hips and moving Spike's body like a fleshlight with his arms. The intensity of it all started to make the ropes of the ring shake from the force.
Looking to the side as I fucked Max was started to give me a crick in my neck and seeing Jack's display gave me a sudden idea. I wrapped my arm around Max's neck and hauled him back up so that he was sitting on my lap. His ass pressed against my hips and my dick went all the way up his ass, his back fell against my chest and my lips immediately went to his neck, sucking and nibbling at this skin while he moaned. "That's better," I said, running a finger over his hard nipple as I watched Jack destroy Spike's ass in the ring.
What a sight that was. Spike's body suspended in the air, held in place by Jack's iron bands of muscle around his stomach. Jack was standing in profile so I could see the base of his dick as it rammed in and out of Spike's gaping hole. The motion of Jack's hips and the flip-flopping of Spikes cock were almost hypnotic, to the point that poor Max had to deal with my own pounding moving faster and slower in time with Jack. As great as it was there was still something missing.
"Be a good boy and make a request for me," I whispered in Max's ear. A tweak of his nipple and a grip on his hard dick helped convince him and he tapped away on the menu built into the arm of the couch. For a moment it looked like Jack wasn't going to see the request but then I saw him glance to the side and I'll admit, my heart skipped a beat. Something about the way his hair was mussed up, a few strands falling over his face as he grinned. Then he turned so that he and Spike were facing towards us. The glass was reflective so he couldn't see my eyes locked on his.
Somehow it was more intimate than if we had been in the same room, me in the box with Max on my lap, him in the ring with Spike in his arms. Despite the hundreds of screaming fans it felt like I was the center of his world right now. Under Jack's gaze Max's body felt more real, his muscles harder, his asshole tighter. Being real the tightness may have been from Max clenching hard but for everything else I'm giving credit to Jack. I started fucking Max more forcefully, lifting my hips up and making Max shake from the ferocity of my thrusts. Max let out a shaky, growling moan as he continued to voice threats of retribution at me, though they were starting to grow more and more incoherent. I ignored him, my mouth going to his neck and sucking at the skin there. One hand tweaked one of his nipples while the other ran over his washboard abs before gripping around his rock hard cock, stroking him in time with my thrusting.
Back in the ring Jack continued his domination of Spike's unguarded hole. His arms tightened their grip around his stomach holding him in place while the ropes shook with each thrust of Jack's hips. Spike's head had lolled to the side, either enraptured from the pleasure or unconscious from the pain. His thick, muscled arms lay limp at his side, his dick now flaccid. Looking from the outside it seemed like Jack barely felt Spike's weight, fucking him raw like he was stuffed with feathers and not hundreds of pounds of muscle. The man's tatted up body certainly seemed to bounce around like it was nothing.
Max's cock started to twitch and he started to grow more rebellious. His hands pressed down on my hips as if he could escape me. I stopped tweaking his nipple and wrapped my arm around his throat. He quickly shifted to that, his hands wrapping around my forearm desperately trying to pull my arm away from his jugular while I pounded the hell out of his ass.
"No, no, no," I whispered with sweet sadism in his ear, "you're going nowhere until you feel my cum in your ass."
He groaned desperately, his cock now pulsing. Jack, meanwhile, had a determined look on his face. His eyes had drifted down, staring intently in the middle distance as his brow shone with sweat. At the base of my dick I could feel the tingle of an oncoming orgasm, it was a race now to see who would be first. Spike, obviously, would not qualify. I had an unfair advantage since my dick was right where I wanted it, up the ass of a guy who didn't want it in there. The more Max struggled against me the more his muscles tensed, the more his muscles tensed the tighter his asshole's grip on my dick was. I couldn't have hoped for a better fleshlight if I had one custom made. His humiliated moaning and groaning certainly helped. The tingle intensified and grew until my entire dick was warm and vibrating. Despite all this I still ended up coming in second.
Down in the ring Jack let out a long roar, his thrusting intensifying as he filled Spike's ass up with cum. As soon as it happened he let Spike go, the massive mountain of muscle falling face first to the mat with a thud. Jack's whole body was revealed then, his sweaty, hairy chest shining under the lights, his muscles bulging from the exertion, his skin red. His dick, oh man his dick, even at a half-chub it was a beautiful sight, his red dick head dripping a string of cum as it slowly receded back in his foreskin. The sight of Jack's body in all it's monstrous glory set off a chain reaction.
My body seized, my dick shooting a river of cum up Max's ass. Max let out a gasp at that, squirming like he was trying to escape a net. His dick pulsed once, twice, before erupting with a geyser of his own splattering cum across his abs as he emptied his balls. I kept jacking him even after he'd cum, coating his dick with his own cum as my hand went up and over his dickhead before going all the way back down to the base, into his pubes. Max started to moan again, this time less in pleasure and more in pain as I continued teasing his sensitive dick. It was until my dick had started to go soft in his ass that I slowed down, finally releasing him and letting him lay sweaty and heaving in my lap.
I rubbed across his sweaty pecs, tweaking a nipple as I went. "Feel good?" I asked. He didn't respond.
In the ring Jack was still standing there, chest heaving, sweat pouring down every inch of him to the point that parts of his jeans were starting to darken. The announcer stepped in through the ropes with a microphone in hand while attendants dragged Spike's inert body away from sight.
Oh yeah, I guess I haven't described the announcer for you in person have I? He was, to mix Tommy and Guido together, a twee looking motherfucker. He really went for the 50s newscaster look. Wore a suit and bow-tie, slicked back hair, even had that stupid curly mustache going on. His face was every bit as punchable as his voice would suggest. He wasn't a small guy by any means but next to Jack he looked practically miniscule.
"What! A! Show!" He called out to the crowd. "What a show! Everyone give it up to our newest full member of the roster everyone! I can't remember the last time I've seen such a dominant display from an undercarder breaking his way into the main roster. What do you have to say about your match?"
Jack was still breathing heavy, clearly more affected by the match than he'd been letting on, or it was just the adrenaline settling down in his body. "Well, uh, wasn't sure I was gonna make it when he bit my dick, but Spike's pretty hot so it made it easier for me to cum."
That played well to the crowd and the announcer, all of whom broke out in laughter. "Well Brawny I can't speak for everyone but I have to say as attached as I've gotten to your current style I can't wait to see how you change things up on the main roster. Any sneak peak, any hints you can give about how you'll be changing things up?"
Jack shrugged. "Dunno, didn't really think about it much. Probably gonna keep things mostly the same, easier that way, y'know?" That got a few disappointed boos but mostly the crowd cheered.
"Hear that folks!" The announcer said. "Looks like we've got plenty more time with Brawny!"
"Oh," Jack cut in, "it won't be Brawny anymore. Just Jack."
"Jack! I like it!" The announcer shouted with the same elation as if he'd just struck gold, though I can't say I blame him.
After all, I think I liked Jack quite a bit too.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
