Wrestling Weekend Part III: Friendship Destroyed

Wrestling Weekend Part III: Friendship Destroyed

by The Defenseman

Patrick was on me before I could even get out of my corner. He drove his shoulder into my gut and sent me flying back into the corner. His fists were flying at a tremendous speed, delivering lefts and rights to my near-mush abs, and he ended the combination with a devastating uppercut to my tender balls. Before I could even slump to my knees, Patrick had me in a solid headlock. He took three running steps, with me stumbling behind him, then smashed my face into the opposite ring post. Everything went black for a second and as I stumbled out of the corner, Patrick grabbed me around the neck and bulldogged my face into the mat.


The crowd was going nuts and, as my eyes started to focus, I noticed a small puddle of blood on the mat, dripping from my busted nose. I tried to lift myself up, but Patrick gave me a swift kick to the ribs, which sent me sprawling on my back. He grabbed me by the legs, spread them, and dropped all his weight, knee-first, down on my vulnerable cock and balls. I let out an ungodly scream that even surprised me. He was on me in a second, sitting on my face, grinding his hairy, sweaty ass cheeks on my mouth, pulling my arms over my head and pinning them under his legs. Everything was dark and rank, but I could still hear his muffled laughs from under his butt cheeks. He started on my left pec, a solid punch, followed by grabbing my nipple, twisting it hard between his fingers, and then yanking his hand away. I let out a yell and he pressed his ass lips down on my mouth even harder, spreading his cheeks wide. Then he repeated the same maneuver on the right pec, punch, grab, twist, yank. Then left, then right. Left, right, left, right. This went on for minutes until my pecs were complete mush and my screams of agony were finally reduced to tortured muffled groans.

Patrick finally hopped off my face and jumped out of the ring, to the thunderous applause of the crowd. I tried to sit up, but my ab and pec muscles were completely useless. I closed my eyes, and, through the pain, I could smell the sweat and cigars and poppers and stale beer that rose from the spectators like the fumes from hot tar. The cheering got even louder and I opened my eyes to see and towering Patrick crush my pecs with the edge of a folded metal chair. Every muscle in my chest radiated incredible pain, as if my entire upper body had just caved in. After my body stopped convulsing, he threw the metal chair across my chest and let out a primal whoop. He threw himself across the ring and catapulted himself towards me.

I knew that if he landed on the chair, I would probably pass out. I lamely tried to push the chair off my chest, but it barely slid down over my legs. As Patrick flew in the air towards me, my knees instinctively contracted upwards, then my legs kicked out. The chair, which had gotten tangled up in my knees, inexplicably vaulted upwards and, as luck would have it, it caught Patrick squarely in the throat in mid-air. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the floor, bucking wildly, both hands clutching his smashed larynx.

I stood in the corner for a minute, catching my breath, gently cupping my tender balls, watching Patrick flop around the ring like a goldfish out of its bowl. When it looked like he was starting to regain his senses, I pounced on him, dropping my knee across his throat. He sprung to his knees, gasping for air again, and tried to crawl to the ropes. But I grabbed him in a headlock, dragged him to his feet, hoisted him up and then dropped him, throat-first, over the top rope. He hit the ground and instantly flipped once in the air onto his back, his tongue protruding from his mouth, his windpipe swollen and nearly closed. I flipped him onto his stomach and, grabbing Ben’s filthy jock strap that was still in the ring, sat on his back, wrapped it around his neck, and began choking him. He let out a gargled scream and tried to buck my off by rising to his knees. But I just wrapped my legs around his torso and choked him harder. After a minute or so, Patrick slumped back down on all fours and crawled his way towards the edge of the ring. I rode him like he was a pony, choking him with the smelly jock all the way. He nearly made it to the ropes, but he ran out of oxygen and slumped to the mat, his head hanging over the ring apron.

Sensing a possible opening, I got outside the ropes, put his head between my knees then jumped from the apron ring, driving his neck into the edge of the mat. He tried to scream, but nothing but a choked Donald-Duck voice came out. I got back into the ring and positioned Patrick’s throat over the second rope, then pull the top rope down, trapping his neck between the two, then did the same to each of his arms, stringing him up stockade-style. I threw myself across the ring, catapulted off the ropes, and threw the force of my weight down on Patrick’s back. I did this four times more, the last time his body jerking so violently that I thought for a second that I had decapitated him. But he finally got untangled from the ropes and fell to the mat, his eyes bulging out, his lips blue, his face beet red.

I grabbed Patrick by the neck, dragged him to his feet, spun him around, then dropped him in a neck breaker. He lay on the mat, barely able to breathe, and I knew I had him. I grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him into a standing position. I dragged his body to the center of the ring and, standing behind him, I applied the fiercest sleeper hold I ever attempted. I was vicious, pumping my forearm like my life depended on it, putting as much pressure on Patrick’s sweaty shaved forehead with my hand as possible. Patrick fought back in vain, scratching at my arms, trying to relieve the pressure. But I could feel the life being drained from Patrick’s body. His arms slowly slumped to his sides and his legs began to give way under him. I guided him to the mat, continuing the pressure, Patrick’s head slowly lolling to one side. I looked down at him and, in that moment, I felt like an absolute shit. I was going to beat my partner in the ring, then fuck his ass, just to save myself an additional beating. Drool starting forming at the corners of Patrick’s mouth and I knew he was almost gone. If I slowly relieved the pressure without anyone’s knowledge, maybe Patrick would revive fast enough and we could join forces and make a break for it. I, for one, was ready to get the fuck outta there.

Just as I was about to let up on my sleeper, I was greeted by a kick to the back of the head. I fell to the mat, seeing stars, holding the back of my head. When I finally focused my eyes, I saw Ben standing above me, laying boot after boot to my ribs, back, and head. I curled up into a fetal position to try to protect myself from the blows. Meanwhile, Magic stood over Patrick and slapped his face back and forth, trying apparently to revive him. Ben grabbed me by the nipples, hoisted me to my feet (taking a few handfuls of chest hair with him), then dragged me over to the ropes. He got on the outside of the ring and positioned me in a reverse headlock. My face was buried in Ben’s sweaty hairy pit, my back arched violently over the top rope. Magic had revived Patrick enough to drag him over to my exposed gut. With a laugh of delight, they took turns laying roundhouse kicks into my pulverized abs while Ben growled slowly, methodically in my ear, his voice deep and firm over the roar of the crowd and my own muffled groans:

“I’ve wanted you since the first time we stepped into the ring together. Hell. I could have fucked you instead of your dumbass army fuck buddy at the end of our first match. But I wanted the pleasure of watching your partner soften you up, destroy and humiliate you before I got my hands on you. I thought your partner would be so humiliated by his ass reaming that he couldn’t possibly lose to you. But I underestimated you, Defenseman, which will make my destruction of you all the more satisfying.” He ground my face hard into his sweaty funk before letting go. I dropped to my knees, gasping for air, my arms still hopelessly tangled in the ropes.

Ben hopped up on the apron and grabbed one of my legs out from under me. Magic took his cue and grabbed the other, splaying my legs wide and leaving my crotch totally exposed. I lamely looked up at Patrick and our eyes met for the first time in the fight. And I instantly regretted ever feeling any sympathy for the mutherfucker. He had a smile of supreme hatred on his face and I knew that I was done for. No mercy here. Patrick turned around and feigned walking away, then quickly pivoted, took two running steps and buried a hard kick in my vulnerable balls. My body bucked wildly, but Ben and Magic had a firm grip on my legs. Patrick’s assault was relentless, unleashing kick after kick into my splayed crotch.

After twenty kicks (counted out by the blood-thirsty crowd), Ben and Magic gave one last yank on my legs, ripping at my groin muscles, before letting me go. I fell to the mat, my hands immediately going to my busted crotch. I rolled from side to side, coughing, spitting, my cock and balls red, raw, and swollen. Patrick and Magic were huddled in the corner, whispering to Patrick. The two slid out of the ring and moved one of the metal fences that separates the fans from the fight area perpendicular to the ring apron. They stood on either side of the fence, staring at me, maniacal smiles on their faces. In the next instant, blinding pain as Patrick grabbed me by the head and hoisted me up to my feet. I was like a scarecrow in his arms as he positioned me on the ring apron outside of the ropes. Suddenly, he grabbed me in a double hammer lock, lifting me off the mat, barely able to stand on my tiptoes, my arms and shoulders in incredible pain, the fence looming below me.

As if on cue, Magic and Ben each grabbed hold of one of my legs and pulled them off the apron. I screamed incoherently as I hung there, my collar bones close to snapping, legs kicking wildly. Magic and Ben each took hold of my feet again, temporarily relieving the pressure from my hammer lock torture. They spread my legs wide, five feet above the cold metal fence rail, until I was almost in a complete split. Patrick yanked me back a bit and whispered in my ear, “Beg me to drop you.”

I looked down. “Patrick, man, please, this is nuts! They drugged us!”

He bounced up and down, increasing the pressure on my destroyed shoulders. “I ain’t fuckin’ around, man!” he screamed, “I wanna hear you begging at the top of your lungs! Beg me to drop you!”

“C’mon, man, no more…”

“Last time, Dee-fense! Beg me to let go! Just get it over with!”

“Fuck you, you two-faced son-of-a-bitch!””

“GRRRRRRR! Fuck you, asshole! How do you like this!?!” Ben and Patrick gave each other a nod, then jumped in the air, dangling from my legs. I could feel every muscle in my arms, shoulders, and back rip and I begged Patrick to let me go. I just kept screaming and screaming while Magic and Ben swung back and forth, as if my legs were vines. Finally, with a primal victory scream, Patrick released me and a combined weight of 350lbs drove me crotch-first into the metal fence, flattening my balls between my pelvic bone and the solid steel. Easily the most painful wrestling move I’ve ever endured.

Mercifully, I passed out. The next part of the story has been pieced together from eyewitness accounts of other wrestlers who were there that night. People have told me that I was conscious throughout the entire ordeal. But I have very few memories of the following events. Sometimes, late at night when it’s quiet, I can close my eyes and see the lights of the barn and hear Patrick’s voice through a hazy cloud. But I’ve heard the story so many times that it’s hard to separate actual memories from pure imagination. So here goes…

I guess the force of the blow to my nuts made me throw up, so I was laying outside the ring in a puddle of my own puke. Patrick came out after me, threw me over his shoulder, then tossed me back into the ring. He propped me up in the corner with my ass exposed, then unceremoniously drove his thick meaty cock up my chute. Witnesses say my eyes bugged out and I screamed in agony as his 9” manpole ripped my insides to shreds. Ben got on the other side of the ring post and held my arms down while Patrick went to town on my ass. The crowd was going nuts, jumping over the fence and surrounding the ring, cheering him on. As he assaulted my butt, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and pounded my face into the turnbuckle with each thrust. The crowd counted along with him, but lost track at 50 or 60. My face was a bloody mess, both eyes almost swollen shut, blood pulsing from a cut on my upper lip.

Finally, with a look on intense concentration, Patrick pounded even faster, hoping to finally shoot his load after nearly an hour of a continual hardon. Just as he was ready to let fly, Magic came up from behind and hit him over the head with a metal chair. Patrick fell forwards, smashing his face into the back of my head, then staggered backwards, his engorged cock coming out of my asshole with an audible pop. He hit the mat like a ton of bricks, his eyes dancing in their sockets. Magic was on him in an instant, tying his hands behind his back and wrapping an additional cock ring around his already purple shaft and sac.

Ben let go of my arms and I fell to the mat, my face only inches from Patrick’s. Ben grabbed the microphone, “Well, folks, since the rules stipulate that the winner is determined by fucking, and this piece of shit here didn’t cum…” he kicked Patrick hard in the ribs, “I guess we got ourselves a draw. But after further review, Magic and I declare Patrick the winner. His reward: A night of cock-sucking and ass fucking, compliments of you gentlemen in the audience! Take good care of him, fellas, especially those of you who tasted Patrick’s wrath during the earlier rounds!” With that, the crowd went nuts, storming the ring. They picked Patrick up, hoisted him over their shoulders, and carried him out of the ring. Some wrestlers tried to go after me, but Ben punched him square in the nose. “Fuck you, asshole, this one’s mine!” Ben then grabbed me in a headlock and literally dragged me out of the barn…