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.
Take Me Back to Eden
Hello again, dear reader,
Well, here we are. Honestly I wasn't sure if would make it this far. When I first started writing these entries, it was a sort of confession. I knew if I told a priest any of this I'd be doing Hail Marys until my dick fell off so I figured a better penance would be to share my sins with you, my fellow perverts and deviants. That's if I've even bothered to go through with any of this and these entries aren't just rotting in a server somewhere. Or maybe I bitched out and just deleted it all. That would be a shame, this is some fine work and the literary canon would be worse for its absence. But this is all just me jerking myself off, and you aren't here for that, reader, right? Well, maybe...
Either way, we've reached the precipice of what one might call my 'shame arc', if that parlance means anything to you. Which is to say that the following entries are going to get particularly kinky and particularly drama full. Yeah, I know. My point is, we are fast approaching my moment of greatest shame, the moment in my life I most often think of and wonder if I could go back would I do anything differently? And honestly, the answer is no. But I think about it every now and then. But I'm just wasting time now. As Rod would say, an ass won't fuck itself and these words won't write themselves.
Enjoy.
I may as well start the night before the last show of the rookie showcase. The days between me and Hill's match with Polyamory and then were mostly filled with what you'd expect. Rest, exercise, considering how willing I was to make another deal with a more experienced member of the roster, not thinking about all the times Gym and Frosh were obviously sneaking off with each other. Y'know, what you'd expect from a closet case trapped in a sex wrestling promotion.
One of the ways I distracted myself was making plans. I'm one of those guys that loves spreadsheets, might not expect that of me but what can I say. So I started spreadsheeting out what Gym and I'd need to earn to get the fuck out of here. The fact that Frosh wouldn't be leaving with us certainly didn't factor at all. The more I crunched the numbers, how many wins, how many earnings per match, how many matches minimum, maximum, the less I liked what I was seeing. Our time in the Ring was beginning to look less and less like a brief stint and more and more like... I don't even know what the right word would be, a career I guess.
I had this revelation at about mid-morning while I was on my run and I stewed in it all through the day until evening. What for me was shaping up to be a night pulled from the depths of hell was for the other rookies a reason to celebrate. It was the end of the showcase, most of them had made their mark in one way or another, and this was going to be their big time to shine. Prissy little bitch that I was I planned on staying in for the night. That was until Gym & Frosh (not the ampersand) came knocking at my door trying to lure me out with the hush puppies that Long Haul had fried up. Tried and succeeded I should say. The common room had a kitchen in it and it turns out that Haulie was quite the cook.
Turns out he'd whipped up a feast. Aside from the hush puppies he'd also made his own fries covered in a secret spice mixture that was the most heavenly thing I had ever tasted, fried pork chops served with rice, and some sort of fish soup made with coconut milk. He even had a tres leches cake he'd been working on for days just to get it right. Needless to say all of the rookies were stoked, and I count myself among that number. Beach Bum offered marriage, C-Suite plotted out a catering business, even Octagon cracked a joke saying he was just fattening us up so we'd be easier to beat tomorrow. Haulie just laughed at that and patted his belly.
"Some of the patrons do like a gut, I guess." He said a bit shyly. "Just figured that you guys are cool, and it's cheaper to cook than order."
"Man you could make bank with skills like this." I said. "It's a shame you're stuck here."
Haulie just shrugged, but some of the other guys gave me a weird look.
"What'd'you mean 'stuck'?" Beach Bum asked.
"Well, y'know," I waved my fork around vaguely, "stuck here. I mean it's this or prison." That only drew more confused stares and a whispered 'what the fuck?' from Hillbilly. "Wait." I said. "Did..." my stomach started to sink, "did none of you guys go to prison?"
Almost half the table shook their heads. Only Haulie, Frosh, and C-Suite didn't. And Gym of course, but you knew that.
"Haulie you're a criminal?" Grunt asked flabbergasted.
Haulie's shoulders hunkered down and his cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "Uh, yeah... I drove over my hours and got caught buying uppers. They charged me with transporting too so I got sent to prison. Lost my certs too so I... well I figured I wouldn't be able to make money any other way."
"Hey!" Gym said with an enthusiasm not at all appropriate for the conversation, "we're in for buying too! Well, steroids in our case."
"'We' weren't buying anything. You were buying, from a cop no less. I was just there."
Gym's smile faltered in a way that made me feel like I'd kicked a puppy and he looked back down at his pork chops. "Well we're a... package deal, right?" My heart stuttered and I felt butterflies in my stomach at that. He didn't mean it that way, obviously, he couldn't when he had Frosh but... still...
Before I could say anything Hillbilly spoke up from the other end of the table, looking at me oddly. "I figured you had experience with this kinda thing."
"And I figured you were in for cooking meth." I shot back.
Hillbilly glared at me. "Fuck you."
"Oh, you know how to do that without a dick up your ass?"
"You-" Grunt put a hand on Hill's chest and pushed him back into his seat.
"Save it till the foods done." Grunt said simply. Say what you will about the guy, he had a laconic sort of logic that was hard to argue with.
Silence fell back over the table for a bit, only broken by the clink of silverware on plates, until Frosh spoke up. "So... if you guys didn't go to jail then how did you end up here?"
"Well first I gotta know what a goody two-shoes like you did that got you locked up." Hillbilly said.
Frosh turned bright red at that and dug at his food for a bit. "Let's just say underage drinking and leave it at that." All of the table was staring at Frosh in the silent hope he would elaborate further. He didn't.
C-Suite broke the tension by raising his hand and saying. "Embezzlement, if anyone was curious."
"Kinda figured, no offense." I said.
"None taken."
"I want to know too." Gym cut in. "How'd you guys even find this place?"
"There's leagues like this all over." Beach Bum said. "Loads smaller though, and a lot tamer. A recruiter came to a show one night and, well, you won't find another promotion with a deal even half as good as ours is."
"Don't make you put up with half as much bullshit though." Hillbilly groused.
"Yeah, cause there's not enough money for it." Beach Bum said.
The conversation continued to devolve along those lines as the number of empty beer bottles started to add up. I know it's strange to say considering the environment it was immersed in but the night started to remind me of my old frat house. Well, maybe with less sexual assault. Yes, less. Someone got some music playing, after the cake we all ended up spread across the room talking, playing games, just generally shooting the shit. Octagon and C-Suite ended up in a corner seat making out. And for maybe the first time seeing two guys swap spit didn't weird me out. Hillbilly was sprawled on a couch holding court with Grunt, Beach Bum, and Haulie telling stories of his time in other promotions. Every now and then he'd give me a look that I couldn't place. Like he wanted to talk to me, but didn't, maybe like he wanted me to come talk to him. Whatever it was I did my best to ignore him, after our last escapade in the Ring I'd had my fill of the guy, if you'll forgive the pun. Besides, I had my buds to hang out with. It was a good night. I almost was able to forget my impending doom tomorrow.
And then. And then... Frosh got up. He was wobbly on his feet from the beers he'd put away on his relatively small frame. Again I must emphasize, twunk, but small by comparison. Anyways he was sloshed. Now is a good time to also say that Frosh is a giggly drunk, and through his giggles he was saying. "Man, I don't know if I can make it back to my room. I might need some help."
God, what a conniving little slut.
Before Gym could say anything I was up on my feet. "Sure thing bud!" I put on my best chipper smile. What can I say, I was a bit close to sloshed myself. Frosh's smile flickered slightly but he kept it up.
Gym got up as well. "I should probably turn in too. Big day tomorrow. Gotta make sure we all get our rest."
Frosh's smile widened and he threw his arms around the two of our shoulders. "Aww, you guys are the best. Alpha Beta Sigma!" He said, saying the name of the frat he and Gym had come up with. Yeah, they were still on that. At this point I wasn't sure there was anything that would get them off that idea.
We got him to his room, which he so clearly needed help getting to. He practically had to hang on to Gym for dear life the whole way there. I kept waiting for one of them to say something, anything. Now that I'd seen them kiss it was like all of the signs were just blaring at me that the two of them together. But they never said, and that granted permission to the selfish part of me that wanted... well, that wanted.
Gym was still lingering as I turned to go. I knew why, Frosh knew I knew why by the look he was giving me. Oh his eyes were all innocent but he was tense, like he was getting ready for a fight. As for Gym, he looked excited. Happy. God damn it. I grabbed his arm and dragged him away.
"C'mon big guy." I said. "Gotta get our rest, right?"
"Well I-"
"Yeah big guy." Frosh said, laughing. "Get some rest."
"...ok."
I didn't look back but I was certain that Frosh had winked. I didn't turn around until I had pulled Gym into the hall and was walking him to his room. He was looking off, his red cheeks even redder. It made my heart beat faster, my mouth go dry. I let go of him so that he wouldn't feel my hands shaking. I felt sick.
"You alright dude?" He asked me.
No you idiot I'm in love with you. Maybe things would have gone differently if I'd said it then. It's rare that there are moments in your life that you can pin-point a moment of divergence, where your choices will directly and massively affect the way your future unfolds. Despite my ignorance and insecurity at the time I was aware of that. I knew, with certainty, that what I was doing right then would carry ramifications that would follow me for a long time to come. So of course, I said, "Yeah man, just nervous about tomorrow."
God, if I had a time machine and I could go back and talk with my past self, I'd beat the shit out of me.
"Hey," he said, clasping my shoulder, "you'll get through it. You're tough bro, you're a survivor." Even Gym was aware at this point that there was no winning in Alpha's gauntlet. At best there was surviving, and I wasn't even sure I could do that. It was a thought I'd been mulling around all week and as we got to Gym's room I finally worked up the courage to say it aloud.
"Can we talk man?" I asked.
"'course." Gym said as he sat down on his bed. "What's eating you?"
"Don't think we've got time for all that." I laughed dryly. "Just tonight's got me thinking. About how good we'd had it. You ever think about that? Like how we'd freak out about finals, or our dads, or... or some bullshit and we'd just be like 'our lives suck' but they didn't, at all. It was actually fucking great. And I miss that."
Gym sat there silently, not staring at anything in particular. "Yeah, I miss it to."
"Do you ever want to go back?"
"Yeah I want to go back, but we can't." He was getting agitated. Probably getting blue balls cause he was expecting to be plowing Frosh by now. "Look, you can't think about that kind of stuff. We're here now, so what we gotta do is win. Only way out is through."
"That's it though, there is no out."
"Whaddya mean?"
"I mean its a fucking scam. All of it. We're in for a million bucks, do you know how many matches we need to win just to get out of here?" Gym looked at me blankly so I answered for him. "Two-hundred. If we get one match a week, we win that match and get $5,000, and neither of us has a perfect winning streak but let's just say we did, we'd be here for about four years. If we never lose."
Gym snorted. "Leave it to the accounting major to crunch the numbers."
"Leave it to the business major to not know a thing about money. Haven't you thought about how long we might be stuck here?"
"Well what're we supposed to do about it?" Gym asked, his voice agitated. "Seriously, what?" He looked at me and maybe for the first time in his life he had a moment of clarity. "Are you going to quit?"
I was so caught off guard by the utter devastation on Gym's face that I couldn't offer any response than a quiet, "Maybe."
That got him on his feet. "What the fuck dude?! We're supposed to be a team! You're just gonna leave me high and dry?"
"I don't fucking know man! 's not like you even need me anymore."
"Ok what the fuck does that mean?"
Fuck. This was not going how I had planned it. Of course, going how it was planned was kinda impossible considering I didn't have a plan at all going into this. Looking back on it the easiest way to explain my thinking was 'I don't want Gym going back to Frosh tonight' and anything I could do to disrupt that was part of the 'plan.' What I had just said was drawing dangerously close to 'saying what I'm actually feeling' territory so of course, I shut down.
"It means I don't know how much more I can take of this bullshit." That was true. It had nothing to do with what I had said earlier, but it was also true. "I just want to go back to how it was. Just hang out, ditch class, get drunk. Fuck, I just wanna be with you, man." And that right there was the problem with a stream-of-consciousness style rant. You end up saying exactly what you're feeling.
Gym, God help him, only picked up on about half of what I had actually said. "None of that's gonna happen if you quit man."
This was not going the way I had planned. "I don't want to quit dude I just... it... I don't know what I'm gonna do in there alright? What he's gonna put me up against, it could... I might not be able to handle it, and if that happens there's- I- I-..." I took in a breath. "If I quit, there's things I want to say and do before I go."
Gym's looked at me confused. It was like he had only two settings, complete confusion or utter confidence, no in between. That was probably what I loved about him. Fuck it. There was barely any space between us to start with and I filled it quickly, pressing my lips to his. As far as kisses go, it was fairly chaste. Closed lips pressed against closed lips. Disney was raunchier than that kiss. Reader, that kiss hit me like lightning. What inhibitions I had left were gripping for dear life. I wanted this kiss, yes, of course I did, but I wanted more than just a kiss. My hands went to Gym's waist, snuck under the hem of his tank, fingers traced up over his ribs. Gym took in a breath and I was suddenly back in myself. I went to pull away, I was ready to stop and take whatever shit Gym was going to throw at me for being such an impulsive idiot.
Reader... he leaned in. He chased after my lips as I tried to pull back, and that was all the permission I needed. I pressed in and for a moment it was almost like a fight, our arms tangled, fighting for a grip, each of us pushing to gain the advantage. It was a battle of brute force so of course Gym was the winner there. He slammed me against his closet, overpowered by his kiss, his breath filling me, his body crushing me. My entire body was thrumming with a heat I had never felt before. Elation, frustration. It was everything I ever wanted, except I wasn't in control. I continued to struggle, to push against him, to little avail. He had the strength and the leverage to hold me in place, his arms around me like iron, until he broke off suddenly and cold air rushed in to fill the space between us.
He was gasping for breath, I was gasping for breath. He looked at me bewildered, at what I was not sure, at himself maybe. My lips still sparked with the memory of his touch. All the parts of the world that were not filled with his touch felt empty. I had a craving like a junkie, a gravity in my skin that pulled me towards him. Before he could say anything I was on him again. In his surprise he stumbled back, I hooked his leg and toppled him onto his bed, leaping on top of him as he fell. For a moment I exulted in the simple feeling of my body pressing his down, the power that I had over him as I kissed him, the shifting of his muscles as my hands slipped back under his shirt.
I broke away from him so that I could pull his tank over his head and toss it aside. I nearly ripped my own shirt as I pulled it off and crashed back down on top of him, our bodies pressing together, the mountains of his muscles tremoring like an earthquake beneath me. My dick was hard as iron and aching for more than just the touch of Gym's lips. I gripped the back of his head with my left hand and pulled him in to a kiss deep enough to drown in. My right hand danced over his massive pecs, traced over his hard nipples, over his rippling abs, and snuck beneath his shorts to caress his rock hard dick. Just the tips of my fingers brushed up his shaft and I instantly knew it wasn't enough. I gripped his dick and felt it pulse as Gym shuddered under my touch. His head jerked to the side but I held him firm, keeping him beneath me, my tongue pressing past his defenses as our shared kiss began to become a struggle.
Gym moaned, or it sounded like a moan through my lips. It rumbled through his chest, across my tongue, and it made my cock jump. His shuddering was becoming something close to thrashing. His lips broke away from mine and he let out a panting "stop." That wasn't going to happen. I chased after his lips but he turned his head to one side and then the other, my grip on his hair grew tight as I tried to force him and his moans turned to something more angered. He his dick slipped from my grasp as he shifted. For a moment he rolled me onto my back with his hulking form atop me. As much as I savored the weight of his hot, heaving body pressing down on me I couldn't allow it to continue. With my legs still wrapped around his waist I managed to regain dominant position. Grabbing his hands and pressing them down against the mattress I leaned in to continue our kiss but this time Gym turned to the side, my lips landing on his neck. That worked too.
"I said fucking stop!" He said more insistently, just below a shout that might alert someone outside.
"Why?" I asked as I moved lower to suck on his nipples.
He gasped. "Because I said stop."
He was struggling again and I had to pull back to regain my leverage, staring down at him as he glared up at me, his arms pinned above his head, his shaved pits wide open. God those things were fucking deep. I know it's wrong, I knew it back then even if I didn't admit it, and I definitely know it now, but the more he resisted, the more he fought back, the more I wanted him. Unluckily for Gym and luckily for me all he knew was brute force, he managed to push against me, all those bench presses paying off for a second, before I was able to leverage my position to force them back down. I held in a laugh. "You don't want me to stop, not really."
"Yes I do."
"Why?"
"Just let me go dude!"
"Not until you tell me why you want me to stop."
"What the fuck dude!"
"You kissed me, you wanted it, so why stop?"
I could see the gears turning in his head and it made my heart sink. Just tell me, man, I wanted to say. Unfortunately I was just as much of a coward as he was. Something clicked in his head and he said, "We've got matches tomorrow! We can't wear ourselves out."
"Bullshit." I said.
"Dude!"
"What's the real reason?"
"I fuckin' told you!"
"No you didn't!" And I knew he wasn't going to, not unless I dragged it out of him. That realization knocked the wind out of me. I let him go and slid off the bed, sitting on the floor with my head against the wall, my arms on my knees. The words were burning in my throat, begging to be said or not to be said. Fuck it. "I saw you kissing him." It physically hurt to say, like a momentary case of strep, my throat refusing to open up and let the truth out.
For a moment it looked like Gym was going to deny it but luckily for both of us he didn't, because I don't know what happens if you get a murder charge in the Ring but I'm pretty sure they don't just add it to your tab. He just sat up and put his head in his hands and muttered, 'fuck' to himself over and over again, rising in intensity until it was closer to a shout than a whisper. "Why now?" He asked me. "How long have you- all this time we coulda- fuck!"
"You coulda something too y'know." I said back. It was almost funny, two closet cases who'd spent the past three years as roommates, longer than that as best friends, we could have been in bliss, a Hallmark movie story if Hallmark acknowledged that gays exist. That's what I thought at the time at least. In hindsight I bet we'd have fallen apart in even worse drama than would already happen.
"How was I supposed to fucking know?" He asked me bitterly. I could only shrug.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
"Are you still going to leave?"
"I don't want to..."
"But you don't not want to."
It took me a moment to unravel that statement. "I guess not."
"Fuck dude."
"Like I said, not like you need me anymore."
Gym looked at me for a moment before asking incredulously. "Is this about Frosh?!"
"It's not not about Frosh."
"Dude..." He sighed, and didn't say anything else. I didn't either, for a bit. What was there to say?
"It's fine." I settled on saying. "It's whatever. You two are happy together. If I stay or go, that won't change." I stood up and started to head for the door until Gym said a hurried 'wait!' and grabbed my arm. He looked up at me with a panic and ardor that for that moment made me really think he was going to choose me.
"What if we worked something out?" He said and my heart didn't sink because my mind hadn't fully understood what he meant yet. Then he kept talking. "Just 'cause Frosh is with me doesn't mean that, y'know, we could... you could be with me too."
His grip on my wrist was so strong, so earnest, I realized he really meant what he was saying. This wasn't some scheme, some trick in his mind, this was a real, workable plan. Reader I could have killed this man, maybe I should have, it would have saved a lot of heartache in the future. Instead I did something stupid, both for myself and for Gym. I asked a question. "Could me and Frosh be a thing to? With this plan?"
Gym's face scrunched up and he looked both shocked and disgusted. "Dude what?"
I shook myself free of his grip and grabbed the door knob. "It's fine." I said, lying. "I'm happy you've got Frosh. I don't want to get in between that." As I turned the knob he called my name but I ignored it. "Go to sleep Gym." I said as I stepped into the hallway. I also ignored the swiftly disappearing form of Frosh dipping behind the corner as I walked to my room and I ignored the faint footsteps that echoed down the hallway to Gym's room as I shut the door to mine. Little slut couldn't even wait a minute.
Remember that moment of clarity I had earlier? That moment of seeing the diverging paths in your life and that the decisions you make in one moment will affect you for the rest of your life? Yeah, turns other people get that too, it wasn't just me. As I lay down and failed to sleep it settled into me that maybe I wasn't the hero of the story I thought I was part of. I was the childhood friend that got jettisoned for the hot new thing that showed up in act 2. I was Gwen Stacy. Nobody wants to be Gwen Stacy. Gwen Stacy fucking died!
Maybe that was fitting. Tomorrow was my last of Alpha's lessons, after all. The lesson of ruthlessness. What better way to cap it off than killing me in the Ring. That'd be a show.
Tomorrow came like it always does, fucking asshole, can't let a guy rest for one god damn day. My dream opponent in the Ring would be Tomorrow so I could break his fucking neck. Maybe then I'd get a good night's rest.
Anyways.
Management was pulling out all the stops for tonight's show, it was the finale of the rookie showcase after all. The meat and potatoes of the night were mentor-mentee matches. It's been mentioned before but just to refresh you, dear reader, there are three (maybe four) tiers of wrestlers in the Ring. At the top is the Pantheon which Alpha God is technically a part of though functionally he's a tier of his own as the champion. Below them is the main roster, who are all competing in the rankings for a chance to face a member of the Pantheon and take his place. Rodeo, Major Mauler, Papa Bear, Polyamory and the like are all main roster. Below that is the "Rising Star Roster" quote unquote. Rookies like me and Gym and all the fine fellows at dinner last night were a subset of that roster. Guys like Gram and Harley were also part of this roster but at a higher level than the likes of me. Usually matches were set upon within the various rosters and when that wasn't the case, as in my lessons with Alpha, it was something special. Management does love a mismatch. Now to advance to the main roster there were a few methods, the most common was in a special match against your mentor. Beat him and you get to choose a name for yourself, you get to move out of Gen Pop to some swankier apartments, and you become a part of the main roster which is a benefit all its own. More eyes, more matches, more money.
The program we were given for the night was of course helpfully vague, under the 'Rookie Showcase' section it just said 'Mentor Matches -> Gauntlet.' It was the usual four of us and between the matches of the night and my... discussion with Gym yesterday it... made for an awkward combination. I was looking at Gym and Frosh, Frosh was looking at me and Gym, Gym was looking at me and Rod, and Rod was looking at the bottom of his whiskey bottle. There was a lot to be said but none of it was spoken.
First match of the night was Octagon and his mentor Lionheart. Probably a good idea since Lionheart was about the closest the Ring had to what in the non-sexual less sexual pro-wrestling world would be called a face, a good guy for you uninitiated. Now that doesn't mean this match was boring, but it was definitely tame. Again, by the standards of the Ring. His deal was being a sort of King Arthur style knight in shining armor shtick. He was clean shaven with a strong lantern jaw, wavy brown hair down past his ears, a winning smile that could make your heart flutter, and a svelte body of sculpted muscle packed into tight, silver square-cut trunks.
It was clear that he was chosen as Oc's mentor not for any similarity in their temperaments but their fighting styles. This fight looked closer to UFC than WWE. He also wasn't like other fighters in the Ring going for humiliation, at least not obvious ones. Anytime he got Octagon on the backfoot or knocked him down he'd step back and encourage him on. "Watch your stance! You got this!" He'd shout, encouraging his mentee to get back in the fight. Anytime Octagon managed to gain the advantage he'd be even more effusive. "That's it! Keep it up!" Even Rod, who as far as mentors go was a good guy, wasn't this encouraging even outside the Ring.
Things started to take a turn when he got Octagon on his back with a double-leg takedown followed by rolling him up until his knees were touching his shoulders. Lionheart's a good guy, see, so when he pulled down Oc's trunks he didn't go in dry, he got him lubed up first. Now you might think being forced on your back with your ass spread open would be demeaning, and you'd be right, but compared to the other options it has some benefits. For one there's at least a chance of pleasure for the fucked compared to a face-fucking. For two, most of Octagon was covered up by the body of Lionheart as he was fucking him, mostly we got to see his silver clad ass gyrating, which wasn't a bad sight. And for three, it's faster. A dry fucking chafes like hell and a face-fuck is not a blowjob, it's sloppy, there's teeth, your dick keeps slipping out, it takes a while. He kept the words of encouragement up while he fucked him, but there was definitely a change in the tone. "Yeah, that's it, almost there." He was also nice enough to jerk Oc off while he fucked him.
Soon enough Octagon was filled up with his mentor's cum and we were on to the next match, C-Suite and his mentor, a fun guy named Lecter. Yes, like the cannibal serial killer. Lecter had more experience in the Ring than Lionheart which should have made this match quicker, but he was also a sadistic motherfucker, which evened things out. His short hair was bleached blond and slicked back, his face meticulously plucked bare, and his pale blue, almost gray eyes could bore into you. Now to be clear the serial killer shtick was for the Ring, he wasn't actually a murderer, I think. But the sadism was all too real and it was on full display even against his mentee. He was a master of the submission hold, both the knock you out kind and the make you wanna cry kind. Both were on display in this match.
For his part C-Suite put up a good fight, he got Lecter on his back twice, but in the end that proved to just tire him out. Lecter then put C-Suite through the ringer, first in a Boston crab (with requisite ball squeezes) until he tapped, then a camel clutch until he tapped, then an armbar until he tapped, then a triangle choke until he tapped. After that last tap Lecter pulled out his dick, rolled over, and fucked C-Suite's head into the mat. When he got close to completion he pressed his whole dick down C-Suite's throat, gently stroking Suite's hair as he did. As he came his glutes tensed and his grip tightened in C-Suite's hair while C-Suite twitched from the flood of cum down his throat. Or maybe it was the pain, hard to tell through a screen.
While Lecter vamped for time admiring his handiwork an attendant knocked on the door to our green room to come and collect Rodeo and Gym. For me it felt like watching a loved one get walked to their execution but Gym was in high spirits. When Rod said, "don't worry, I'll make it quick," Gym answered back, "nah man, I'm putting on a show." God, I wish I knew where he got that confidence. And that he could bring to other parts of his life. Anyways they got ushered out which left the room empty except for me... and Frosh. I looked over at him, he looked over at me, we both looked away. I looked back.
They'd given Frosh a change of outfit again. He had a proper pair of wrestling trunks now with a pattern of mint green and pale blue splashed across it, a similarly green set of kneepads, and blue boots. He was wearing a white t-shirt for now but I knew that was the only thing covering his chest. I couldn't help imaging how he'd look in action. They wouldn't have had him dress up if he wasn't getting a match tonight, though there wasn't anything on the card. I wondered who his mentor could have been, he never talked about him, not to me at least. Gym probably knew. Dammit.
My eyes traced over Frosh's legs, now bare with his new outfit, those thighs he swore would be tree trunks one day. I wondered if those thighs wrapped around Gym's waist while he was being fucked. Or shit, maybe Frosh was doing the fucking, you never know. I tried to imagine that, Frosh pumping away while Gym moaned. Fuck. It almost made me wish Frosh didn't have his shirt on so I could better imagine what those abs he worked so hard to get would look like as they tensed and untensed while he fucked, see if I could visualize it. God I hated that the most about him, how much I wanted to fuck him, to watch him fuck, to get fucked by him. I even wondered what Gym must feel when he kissed him, I looked up to his soft lips and met his eyes staring back at me over the space where Gym had been. I held his look for a second before turning back to the screen.
The match had started and surprisingly Gym had the upper hand, literally, he and Rod had started out with a test of strength that Gym was winning. The tables turned quickly as Rod dropped low and flipped Gym over him onto his back on the mat. "Think he's got a shot?" Frosh asked.
"Gym?"
"Yeah."
I watched the match progress as Gym managed to get Rod off the ground in a bearhug, our mentor screaming out in pain in Gym's iron grip. I remembered his arms constricting me last night. "Maybe." I said, at the same time as Rod managed to slip free from the grip and trip Gym up and send him tumbling on his face. "Maybe not."
"Rod's a nice guy." Frosh said, "I hope he won't go too hard on him."
"He'll go as hard as Gym makes it to win." I said. Silence returned. I grabbed a beer. Yeah, yeah, don't go into a match buzzed, fuck off.
"So..." Frosh said and I had to hold the sigh inside my throat. "Gym told me about last night."
I took a sip. "You're gonna have to be specific."
"He said you kissed him."
I took another sip. That's one way of putting it. "Oh, yeah." I said. "Got a bit wild there for a bit."
"Wild..." Frosh echoed before grabbing his own drink and fumbling with the cap. I grabbed it from him, slammed the cap off on the edge of the table, and handed it back to him. "Thanks." He muttered.
"No problem." I took a swig. Should've chosen liquor.
"'s just..." Frosh continued, "him and I are... are kinda..."
"A thing?"
"...yeah."
"Yeah he told me that." I emptied the bottle, grabbed another, and slammed the cap off on the table. Frosh jumped a bit as I did which I'm not too proud to admit made my dick twitch a bit.
"Just he really likes me is all." Frosh pressed on. "And I really like him too so I- I just... hope you want him to be happy."
"'course I want him to be happy."
"Alright... so you won't get in the way again?"
Oh you want to see 'in the way?' I'll show you in the way. "When he tells me to stop I stop." After a fashion.
"I get you like him," Frosh said, his tone heavier than before, "but if you actually like him, want what's good for him, you won't try to ruin what we've got."
"Frosh." I said, and that one word carried enough malice to shut him up. "Just 'cause you've been fucking him for a couple weeks doesn't mean you know a damn thing about him." I could feel my anger rising up in me and for once I tried to fight it back down. I partially succeeded. Frosh's fists were clenched to white knuckles and it was so. Damn. Cute. That was my real problem with Frosh, it wasn't hating him, it wasn't wanting to fuck him, it was flip-flopping between the two like a damn metronome. "Don't worry man, I won't get in the way." I said, trying to calm things down. I don't think it worked for either of us. Back in the Ring, Rod had tied things up, this time not literally, with Gym bent over in the corner getting fucked. By the looks of it not as roughly as he could have been. Both of us sat in silence while we watched Gym get fucked.
For the next match we were in for a change-up. I had been expecting an attendant to come grab either me or Frosh for our matches but that didn't happen. Instead when the camera returned to the Ring after a promo from Hercules about his upcoming match with Alpha God it was none other than that same Alpha God who was standing in the Ring, microphone in hand. He was wearing a white button up shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off a bit of his hairy chest and black slacks that were practically crying out in pain as they tried to contain his muscular thighs. "Good evening folks." He rumbled into the mic. "As most of you know, for the past two weeks I have been giving our intrepid rookies Hillbilly and Varsity some lessons in how to succeed in the Ring. Well tonight it is time for their final lesson, a lesson you can only learn in the Ring itself, a lesson... in ruthlessness." He savored that last word like it was somewhere between a whisper to a lover and a prayer to a dark god.
"Now I won't drag this out for you so without further ado let's bring out our first student. Standing 6' 0" and weighing in at 201 pounds" (He's packed on some muscle) "it's the beast of the backwoods! Hillbilly!" Hillbilly made his entrance with as much enthusiasm as a pig that knew it was being taken out to slaughter. While his entrance music rumbled through the speakers he walked slowly, deliberately, and with determination. He had his camo baseball cap on, dirty tank, and jean shorts, his feet only partially covered in wraps.
"Now I know what you're thinking." Alpha said as Hill stepped into the Ring. "'This guy doesn't need a lesson in ruthlessness, he's an animal in the Ring!' Well, you're a little bit right and whole lot wrong. Hillbilly, you've got the viciousness right, that's for damn sure, but your lesson tonight is all about application. You learned that in your match with Varsity didn't you? The first one? You had him dead to rights, that's for sure, but then you got greedy. And who ended up getting fucked that night?" He held the mic out to Hillbilly who just glared back at him. "That's right." Alpha grinned as he answered his own question. "So your lesson tonight isn't just ruthlessness, it is ruthless efficiency. You're $15,000 dollars in the hole so to help you earn your way out I've carefully selected your opponent-" he paused before finishing off with a harsh, "-s."
The camera zoomed in on Hillbilly's mask of stoicism as Alpha read off the list. "First, standing 6' 1" and weighing 198 pounds, Beach Bum!" The first rookie showed up on the screen, his long, perpetually wet, blonde hair hanging down to his sculpted, tan beach bod and bright blue boardshorts. "Second, standing at 5' 11" and weighing in at 253 pounds, Long Haul!" Beach Bum was joined by Long Haul, his brown hair tied back in a ponytail, shaggy beard hanging down to his chest, his muscle bear body hanging over a baggy pair of jeans. "And finally, this one's my favorite, standing 6' 4" and weighing 253 pounds, Grunt." The pale ginger in his military fatigues showed up at the bottom of the screen, completing the set. The camera focused in on Hillbilly's face, searching for any hint of reaction to his training partner and best friend being on the already lopsided card against him. All they got was a look of grit and determination. I was suddenly glad that Gym had already had his match tonight.
"The rules are simple. You begin facing Beach Bum. Every five minutes another opponent enters the Ring until all of them have entered. Beat an opponent by completion and he is removed from the Ring and you earn $5,000. Cum in all three and you earn $15,000. First one to cum in you gets $15,000, second $10,000, third $5,000 and I earn my money back from you in a marathon match next week. Clear?"
Even with that threat on top of the already lopsided conditions Hillbilly just nodded. "Crystal."
"Then let's get ready to rumble! Send in the first opponent!"
The doors opened and Beach Bum made his way to the Ring and unlike Hillbilly he was manifestly and clearly shitting himself. He was the poor S.O.B who had to start this match off on his own. For once Hillbilly gave his opponent time to enter the Ring. Stalling for time, I realized. On the far wall a timer lit up, a matching one in the corner of the screen.
5:00
The bell rang and the timer started counting down. Hillbilly charged at Beach Bum faster than he could react, pushing him so hard against the ropes he almost forced him out of the Ring. His fingers clawed at BB's face as he tried to lean away, already crying out for help that was an eternity away. BB managed to force Hillbilly off of him and back towards the center of the Ring where they locked up, each of them struggling for leverage. Hillbilly was thrashing Beach Bum left and right like a rabid dog, maybe trying to work some strategy or maybe already losing it with desperation. Suddenly a scream went out, Beach Bum's scream, as Hillbilly raked his nails across BB's eyes, dropped down low and slammed a forearm into Beach Bum's balls.
4:00
Alpha announced the countdown from the floor. Beach Bum did his best to keep a defensive posture while falling into the fetal position. Hillbilly pounced on him, thrashing him like crazy, battering his head, giving him no space to even mount a defense. Hillbilly forced Beach Bum on his back and started raking his forearm, on which he was wearing a leather bracer, across Beach Bum's eyes. His screaming grew even louder. He was fighting back, to his credit, but badly. Beach Bum had always been low on the rankings, only Frosh was lower and part of that was that he had been sidelined fairly early on, BB'd earned his place by losing just about every match he'd been in. Beach Bum was now blindly throwing punches and kicks just to try and get Hillbilly off him, his only chance was to get some space until the next wrestler joined and Hillbilly was giving him none of it.
3:00
Apparently satisfied with what he'd done Hillbilly got up, dragging Beach Bum up by his long hair. Hill's hat had gone flying in the scuffle and his own hair was now hanging loose and stringy over his face, giving him a mad look. Beach Bum threw a punch into Hillbilly's gut that briefly winded him and only causing Hillbilly to slam Beach Bum's head back to the mat, enraged. He yanked him back up and dragged his eyes across the top rope of the Ring. At this point Hillbilly's strategy was clear but I was getting more worried he might actually knock one of BB's eyes out, one of the few things the Ring had rules about. He forced BB's body under the middle rope and tangled him up between the top and middle. Hill pulled off his tank, exposing his hairy, muscled chest to the air, and tied it around the top rope and Beach Bum's neck, trapping him further.
2:00
Not satisfied, Hillbilly pulled Beach Bum's shorts down while the surfer thrashed impotently, exposing his cock and balls, and used them to tie one of BB's ankles to the bottom rope. He was taking no chances. While Beach Bum struggled to free himself, his half-mast cock flopping around, Hillbilly pulled down his own pants, jock and all, and rammed his cock right up Beach Bum's unprepped asshole and started pounding away. Beach Bum was beyond words at this point, his screams were so frantic you wouldn't have believed that just last night the two of them had been drinking and chatting like best buds.
1:00
Alpha was counting the seconds now. Hillbilly was pounding away at the bound up Beach Bum's ass, Beach Bum's poor cheeks turning red under the relentless assault. Beads of sweat were forming on Hill's brow. A stranger might have taken it for concentration, I knew it for what it really was. Fear. Five minutes might have been barely enough time for him to take out one opponent, but did his balls have enough cum for him to immediately move on to another?
0:30
Hillbilly picked up his pace, he still hadn't beaten Beach Bum yet. His thrusts were growing erratic, frantic, and Beach Bum's attempts at escape weren't helping. More than once Hill's dick slipped out and he had to force it back in. His right hand gripped hard into Beach Bum's waist trying to hold him still while his left hand wrapped around BB's neck and pulled his head back. I shouldn't have been surprised but I was when Hillbilly bit into Beach Bum's forehead, not just bite, gnawing into BB's skin until blood began to flow. Hill let Beach Bum's head fall down and rubbed Beach Bum's blood into his eyes, using his enemy's own body against him.
"Long Haul joins the fight!" Alpha called out giddily before becoming serious again. "5:00"
Haulie hurtled down the ramp in a headlong sprint. Whether because he didn't want to be on his own against Hill or because Beach Bum was his friend it was hard to tell. Probably a bit of both. Hill was still focused on tearing up Beach Bum's ass, he still hadn't cum yet. Haulie slid under the rope with a quickness and stumbled to his feet, wrapping an arm around Hill's neck and pulling him off of, or out of, Beach Bum and falling backwards to the mat. They were all screaming, Haulie in rage, Hill in frustration, and Beach Bum in pain. Haulie was trying to grapevine Hill's legs while Hill was struggling to escape with all his might. Hill had learned at least one lesson from his first match with me and kicked his pants free so that he wouldn't get tripped up in them. In the meanwhile he was launching elbows backwards into Haulie's side and arching his back, his rock hard dick spearing the air as he fought to escape.
4:00
While he didn't manage to escape, he did leverage his position enough that he was able to sink his teeth into Haulie's arm. Big guy really should have seen that coming. The pain of Hill's bite loosened Haulie's grip enough that he was able to escape, twisting like a viper and launching an all out assault on the now supine Haulie. He started with punches and knees where possible, biting where available, and eventually devolved into grabbing Haulie's head and slamming it back against the mat. After a moment Hill managed to regain some sense and transitioned to an arm bar, copying a tactic from his match last week. With Haulie's arm trapped he started biting into his hand and fingers. Poor Haulie was slamming the mat with his free hand, maybe the pain made him forget that tapping didn't mean shit in the Ring. But this wasn't just Hillbilly vs Long Haul. Hill was so focused on disabling Haulie's hand he didn't notice that Beach Bum was gaining some semblance of awareness again. It wasn't perfect, but with his free leg Beach Bum managed to send a kick that rattled Hill's head. It wasn't much, but it gave Haulie the opening he needed to roll over and, with his free hand grabbing Hill's shoulder and the other still stuck in Hill's grip, put the muscle in muscle bear and lift Hill up off the mat and slam him back down.
3:00
His technique was far from pretty but the power was all that mattered. With a second slam Hill was knocked loose, flat on his back on the mat. Haulie kept the momentum by leaping up and flattening Hill with a body press, landing across him. Haulie got ambitious now and lifted Hill up before executing a textbook body slam, the kind we were all taught to do as part of the standard training. He followed it up with a leg drop across Hill's chest. Frankly, Haulie's technique was so-so, his main asset was his own body weight which he used like a weapon. Unfortunately his application was not as complete as he believed. While Hill lay gasping on his back staring up at the ceiling, Haulie turned to free Beach Bum. It was all the opening Hill needed to roll over and from all fours launch himself at the back of Haulie's knee. He went down in a heap and Hill kicked him onto his back. Grabbing both of Haulie's legs he dragged him over towards where Beach Bum was tied up. He planted one foot on Haulie's balls while he stroked himself back up to full mast and returned to fucking Beach Bum.
2:00
Somehow, someway, Hillbilly was actually coming out on top, for now. He had Haulie on his back, too busy trying to free his balls to put up any real fight while Beach Bum had basically been neutralized before he even had a chance. I saw a shift in him during this second time around fucking Beach Bum. The way he bit his lip, the fire in his eyes underneath his sweat soaked hair, the tremor in his legs as he crushed Haulie's balls underfoot. Whatever struggle Hill'd had getting his rocks off before was definitely lessened now that he had someone else to torture.
1:00
A shudder ran through Hill's body as he bit down on the crook of Beach Bum's neck, thrusting again and again and finally pushing as deep as he could fit, his glutes tensing as he shot a load up BB's ass. When he finally pulled his dick out of Beach Bum's ass a string of cum followed, dripping out as the camera zoomed in on the proof of Hill's victory spilling from Beach Bum's asshole.
"Beach Bum is eliminated!" Alpha called, "$5,000. Just $10,000 to go boy!"
Hill turned on Haulie now, who was curled up on the mat probably trying not to vomit. Hillbilly loomed over him, his chest shining with sweat and heaving, his hair hanging obscuring his face as he examined his next victim. Kicking him onto his stomach, Hill reach down and gripped Haulie's beltline and pulled down Haulie's jeans, revealing his plump, round ass. I was suddenly envious I hadn't had a match with Haulie yet, I do love a thick slice of cake. Hillbilly was furiously jacking himself as he tried to speed run his refractory period when Alpha called out "30 seconds!"
"Fuck!" Hillbilly shouted, wasting precious seconds trying to strategize. He kicked the still reeling Haulie on to his back and pulled him into a sitting position and locked him in a guillotine choke. Haulie's arms windmilled and he weakly tried to fight Hillbilly off but even with his growing strength Hillbilly was still the stronger of the two. Hillbilly cranked like he was trying to rip Haulie's head off as the doors opened and Grunt started his approach to the Ring. The camera lovingly zoomed in on Grunt's face as he headed in, you really could see the struggle written across his face. He was friends with both of the guys in there, and you gotta remember that while he and Hillbilly were here for the money, Haulie was a prison recruit like me and Gym. Each win for Haulie got him that much closer to freedom.
The announcer breathlessly speculated on which way Grunt would turn and was quickly cut off when Grunt broke into a run, slid under the ropes, and took Hillbilly out with a boot to the face. Friendships in the Ring can get thorny like that. Sometimes you have to make a choice, and Grunt's choice was to get to work. Hillbilly struggled against him, trapping him in a headlock at one point which Grunt quickly escaped. They rolled across the Ring fighting for leverage, throwing punches where they could, but it was clear that Grunt had the advantage in both strength and stamina. He soon had Hill on his back, landing blow after blow that must've left Hillbilly seeing stars.
Grunt lifted a fist high to strike a knockout blow but paused, Hill's glassy eyes staring aimlessly into the air. His hand shook, seriously it was like a scene from a movie. After an internal debate of some sort Grunt's arm dropped and he got off of Hill, who stayed reeling on his back. He smacked some sense back into Haulie, who in the meanwhile had crawled into a corner. Beach Bum was still tied to the ropes, hanging limp, apparently the attendants weren't going to free him until the match was done.
Working together, Grunt and Haulie rolled Hill's naked form onto his stomach. While Grunt held his arms down Haulie lifted up Hill's ass and pulled out his own thick cock, already hard just from the excitement. Looks like they'd missed the second lesson because as soon as Haulie got even tip deep in Hill's ass Hill was thrashing with a second wind. Grunt held his arms down to keep him from fighting back while Hillbilly screamed and ranted. He called Grunt every kind of insult you could think of, asshole, motherfucker, traitor, I'm sure you can imagine. Things got interesting though when Hill said faggot. An interesting choice of insult in an all-male sex-fighting promotion but it looked like it landed hard on Grunt. Toxic masculinity can be like that.
So what does Grunt do with his anger at being called a faggot? Why he pulls down his pants and starts facefucking Hill while shouting "Faggot?! Who's the faggot now?!"
For those wondering at home, it's still him. To be fair it was also Hill, and Haulie, and hell, me too. You get it.
Anyways Hill was getting spitroasted. They must've gone all out on the camera crew 'cause we were getting it from all angles, just like Hill. We saw Haulie get balls deep in Hill's hairy ass. We saw Grunt bury Hill's face in his red pubes. We even saw the shift in Hill's jaw as he bit down on Grunt's cock. I know, right? Asshole stole my move! Not that I blame him in this instance, when the odds are stacked against you anything and everything is on the table. So Grunt was pulling out in a panic, falling on his ass clutching his dick. Meanwhile Haulie was so enraptured by finally fucking a guy instead of being fucked that he didn't see the elbow heading straight for his head until it impacted.
While Haulie reeled and Grunt raged Hill was scrabbling on the mat next to Beach Bum, looking like he was struggling to get to his feet before he finally started hauling himself up by the ropes. Grunt was fully, mightily, righteously pissed now and charged at Hill, looking ready to knock him out of the ring with a clothesline. Instead he got a fist to the gut that knocked the wind out of him and then another to the cheek that knocked him out cold. It was only then that I noticed the glinting around Hill's fingers. Those damn brass knuckles, he'd snuck them into his pants again and must've gotten them from where they'd been discard next to Beach Bum. I couldn't help but wonder where they were last week, they definitely could've come in handy. I also made a mental note to frisk him if I was ever in the Ring with him again.
With Grunt busy seeing stars and Haulie... being Haulie, the balance had fully shifted. Hill still had to fuck two guys with his one set of cock and balls. He started with Haulie, who was down but not out. Hill rolled him up until his ankles were pressed against the ropes and trapped them there. With his asshole open and exposed Hill plunged right in. Haulie fought as best he could but he was trapped, helpless. Even though he couldn't fight back Hill still unleashed a few slaps and punches, seemingly for his own pleasure than for anything else. Soon enough his thrusting grew deeper and slower until Alpha announced from the floor. "Long Haul has been eliminated! $10,000! Can he make it to $15,000?"
Like an animal Hillbilly launched himself on to Grunt, clawing at the mat as he crossed the Ring on all fours. Gripping him by the neck and arm he lifted Grunt so that he was standing, more like leaning, against one of the turnbuckles. Grunt's pants were down already and Hillbilly finished the disrobing by gripping Grunt's tank and ripping it down the front, exposing his abs and pecs. I had a hard time figuring out what he was going for until he slapped Grunt hard across the face. "This's how you want it to be?!" He shouted in his face and slapped him again. "You want to come at me you shoulda known not to miss." Another slap and Grunt was finally coming to. He feebly lifted an arm up to defend himself but Hill just unleashed on him, an arm on Grunt's neck forcing him back while he unloaded punch after punch to his exposed gut until it was red as a cherry. He followed up by gripping each of Grunt's pecs in a claw, digging under the muscle and lifting up until Grunt was on his tip-toes and begging for mercy. All the while Hill's cock was growing harder and harder. That's when it all clicked for me, three in a row's gonna need some aphrodisiac. For Hill that meant pain, and not just his.
Hill finished up by beating Grunt down onto his ass in the corner and force-feeding him his cock. Hill gripped both ropes and leaned over as he thrust into his friend's mouth. Every now and then the camera would cut to Alpha's wide grin as he observed Hill definitively learning his lesson. The end was in sight but I never got to see it as an attendant came to the green room and collected me while Hill was still thrusting. The last thing I saw was his half-feral face snarling into the camera as he thrust again and again.
I know this has been a longer entry than most and I don't intend to waste your time dear reader, but I think it best if I leave you off on something more interesting than me walking down a hallway. My preparations went as you'd expect, asscrack smelling of sandalwood, you know the drill. Having seen Hill's challenge and him coming out on top I was honestly a bit numb. I had no idea what Alpha had planned for me but I couldn't imagine it was anything pleasant for me. I was right of course but... well you'll see soon.
The doors opened and I made my entrance to the announcer excitedly speculating what exactly Alpha had planned. My heart both sped up and stopped somehow when I saw him, Alpha God, standing in the Ring. Then I looked up and saw a cage suspended from the ceiling. For a second I thought, oh, this is his plan, he's gonna lock me in a cage with him and teach me a lesson in ruthlessness himself. As if reading my mind he lifted the mic and said, "don't worry little V you're not facing me tonight, you haven't earned that yet. Now hurry on down, the patrons are waiting."
Though it irked me to do what he said it isn't like I was going to turn around now, that'd be too humiliating. So I climbed into the Ring and approached Alpha. I had to crane my neck to keep eye contact with him but like hell was I going to look away. The asshole smirked and slung an arm around my shoulder like he was some buddy of mine. "Now I bet you're shaking in your boots after seeing that last match aren't ya? Nah, you don't need to say anything I can see it. But you don't need to worry because the lesson you need to learn is entirely the opposite of Hillbilly's. See I've been watching your matches and you know what the problem is? They're boring. When I first saw you in your first match, shit, I thought you were going places. You had a fire, an energy, a lust that I'm just not seeing in your later matches. What I'm seeing is a lack... of ruthlessness. You hold back, you end things as soon as the chance arises. But people tune in and pay to see a fight. No, they're here for a show. So tonight you're going to give them a show. I don't have three opponents for you, just one. Once they're in the Ring that cage is coming down and no one's leaving until they've earned $15,000 and you better hope that person's you. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Wonderful." He said with a wolfish grin. "Oh, and in case you were worried, you win if you make him quit. Can't have you holding back. Now, are you ready to meet your opponent?"
I nodded. Best to just get this over with. Judging by the way he was grinning whatever he had planned it wasn't anything good.
"Standing 5' 9" and weighing a whopping 169 pounds!" My heart sank. "Introducing! The unfucked wonder of the rookie roster! The last virgin asshole this side of the Ring!" The doors opened and my opponent tentatively stepped out as Alpha God's deep voice rumbled through the arena and into my chest.
"Frosh!"
