Ringside Revenge

 

Ringside Revenge

Jobguyil

 He had agreed to do the match, but only on his terms. When his former promoter first called Adam and asked him to do a match for them, he almost hung up. He was, after all, the TV champion for the Texas Wrestling Federation. His wrestling career seemed to be made. It had been a year since Adam had left the small wrestling organization in Lubbock to join the ranks of the TWF in Houston. Since his move, his career as a wrestler had blossomed. He was getting better press and bigger matches. He knew how to do the flashy moves and had a body that any man would kill for. Topping off his success, he had just beaten the current TV champion, taking his title. Rod, "the Bod" Richards was furious with the promoters for the move too. He didn't like having his title taken away by a rookie with shiny trunks and superman moves. He was an old school wrestler, tough as nails, who had built a reputation as a real man's champion. The fact that this kid had come from nowhere and was given the title by the promoters was humiliating. So much so that Rod had resigned from the fed and left town. Of course, the promoters fed the press some line like Rod was injured or some such. It made no difference. The fans had Adam, their new TV champion. That was all that mattered.

 When the promoter from his old small-town fed told him that they needed someone to be the jobber for their 'big' name, Adam told the man to go to hell. He hadn't worked his way up the ranks only to be a jobber for some unknown in a small-town nothing fed. The promoter must have been desperate, offering $1000 for the match. The money had been good, but Adam still had his reputation to think of. In the end, he agreed to do the match for $1500. In addition, Adam was scheduled to be the victor of the bout. If this piss-ant fed wanted Adam Price to do a match for them, by god, they were going to pay for it and he was going to come out on top.

 The bout was scheduled and a plane ticket arrived in the mail for him. After arriving in Lubbock, Adam was taken to his hotel room. It was plain, but for what he was getting paid for the two-day trip, it would do. Adam got his bags situated and called the promoter to come get him for the practice session. The promoter explained that it wouldn't be necessary. Since Adam was going to be the winner, he could just wing it and give the crowd a good show. "Huh," Adam thought, "They know they're getting what they're paying for."

 Adam spent the evening in Lubbock looking up old friends and telling them about his success. Nothing made him happier than to flaunt his success in front of people. He made sure to tell them to come and see him stomping ass at the local sport-a-torium. From the sound of it, quite a crowd planned to be there. After all, it was the least he could do for the fed. They had paid out the nose to get him here. They had even agreed to let him improvise a squash on their top guy. It seemed a shame to have even one empty seat in the place. Some of the people Adam spoke to had no idea where to find the place. He gave directions including the phrase, "turn off the paved road here." Unless you were a BIG fed, like the TWA in Houston, your fans were usually rednecks and hicks that still thought it was all real. The sport-a-torium was located about 20 miles outside the city limits, right smack in Hicksville.

 The next night, Adam was sitting in his private dressing room, waiting for the undercard bouts to finish. He checked the door and saw that the last match was just ending; the winner finishing the bout by submission-a figure four from the looks of it. Returning to his dressing room, He took a last look at himself in the mirror. Yessiree, the hicks would be getting their money's worth tonight. Adam looked awesome in his tight, silver/white spandex trunks. They were high cut and showed off his basket well. He wore no cup. They made his crotch look flat and he wanted to show everyone in the audience just how big a man he was. Standing 6'1" and weighing 235 pounds of solid muscle, Adam Price was quite an imposing sight to behold. He had short brown hair and a goatee adorning his guy-next-door looks. His massive chest was smattered with curly brown locks that made their way straight down his chiselled abs, disappearing into his trunks. Black patent leather boots and spandex knee pads that matched his trunks rounded out the picture.

 As Adam stood admiring himself in the mirror, he heard the announcer thank everyone for their support and inviting them back next week. He was awestruck, but that quickly faded into anger as he opened the door to his dressing room and saw the crowd leaving. He hadn't wrestled yet, but people were walking out. The promoter must not have had the money to pay him, so they cut the card short. Pissed as hell, Adam burst through the door to the promoter's office. "What the hell's going on here? Where's everyone going? If you think you're backing out of our deal, you have another thing coming!" Adam was livid.

 "No, not at all. In fact, here's your check." The promoter handed Adam an envelope. Opening it, Adam, saw the check was signed and in the correct amount.

 "I don't' get it." Adam said. "Did the other guy get sick or something?"

 "No. He's here. He's getting ready even as we speak." The promoter had that cocky look that said 'I know something that you don't.' "The second crowd should be here in a second. In fact, there's some of them coming in right now."

 "What second crowd?" Adam Asked as he looked out into the sport-a-torium. Several guys were making their way in. One of them had a cooler and in fact, none of them was without a beer bottle. They were wearing work clothes and seemed none too clean.

 "We have a second card each night" the promoter explained. "We save our best matches for our highest paying patrons. Some of these guys don't get off work until late. This is the only time they get to see our shows. They are more than willing to pay an extra price for what we have to offer."

 "So that's how you were able to pay me what you paid me." Adam surmised.

 "Smart guy. Now, go make sure you're ready to go on. It looks like the place is getting pretty full." The promoter ushered Adam out of his office. Adam hurried back to his dressing room and donned his ring jacket. No sooner had he gotten it on than the announcer welcomed everyone to a night of special bouts. 

 "Introducing first, from Parts unknown, weighing 250 pounds, The Crimson Crusher!" The crowd hooted and hollered their approval as the Crusher made his way to the ring.

 "And his opponent, from Houston Texas, weighing in at 235 pounds, here is the TWC TV champion, Adam Price!" Adam threw back the door to his dressing room and walked out toward the ring. There were assorted cheers, but mostly boos and hisses. He had expected this and reacted accordingly-arguing with a fan and threatening to kick a rather large bear-of-a-man's ass on his way to the ring. Adam stepped into the ring and threw his hands up above his head, parading around the squared circle. Again, the boos and catcalls followed him. Returning to his corner, Adam took off his jacket and turned to face the man he would humiliate tonight.

 The Crusher was tall, about 6'4". This body was huge with muscle and he carried himself like a man of great agility. He wore a red mask with silver eyes, a red and black singlet top and a pair of tights with one red leg and one black. The left leg had silver lettering running down the leg-"Vice Grip." Silver boots topped off the picture. Adam thought to himself that the larger man should consider wearing trunks instead of all the rest. Fans react better to you-even the male ones--when they can see your body. Nevertheless, this man would be going nowhere in the wrestling business. His humiliating squash tonight would be the beginning of the downfall of his career. "Good thing he wore a mask" Adam said aloud to himself.

 "Humm?" the ref said as he checked Adam for foreign objects.

 "I said good thing he wore a mask," yelled Adam over the crowd. "That way, he can always start over as something else. After tonight, the Crimson Crusher is going to be red from embarrassment more than anything else." Adam had planned to drag the match out for a long time, making this would-be star suffer greatly in front of his fans. The finisher for the match would be his top rope reverse moonsault. That always got the crowd on their feet. He wanted to make this match as memorable as possible. That way, not only would he put an end to his opponent's career, but also, he'd gain even more press as the toughest wrestler in Texas.

 "DING!" The bell sounded and the match was underway. Adam came out from his corner and got right in the Crusher's face. He wanted the humiliation to start right from the very beginning. Pushing the Crimson Crusher back a step, then another, Adam was surprised that the Crusher didn't shove back. He just took it. "He's just waiting for me to make the first move. The idiot doesn't even know how to play up the drama to the audience!" thought Adam. Meanwhile, the crowd was sending boos to the ring and shouting for the action to start.

 Finally, the jeers and hoots from the crowd prompted the Crusher to lock up with Adam. The Crusher's strength was greater than Adam thought at he was forced back into the centre of the ring. Not wanting to be outdone, Adam shoved forward with all his strength, hoping to throw the Crusher into the ropes. Instead, he found the Crusher was rooted to the mat with a powerful stance and it turned out to be Adam who was thrown back against the ropes. The crowd cheered mightily for their hero and the Crusher threw his hands into the air.

 Adam was definitely not liking the attitude of this crowd. He didn't care if they were on his side or not, but their encouragement seemed to be fuelling the fire of this jobber. Neither did he like the fact that the Crusher was able to throw him back into the ropes like a rag-doll. He decided to show the Crusher what true power was all about. Stepping back into the centre of the ring, he raised his arms inviting the Crusher to join him in a test of strength. The Crimson Crusher stepped forth and obliged him. They locked hands and immediately, their chests slammed together as they jockeyed for position. They were cheek to cheek when the Crusher whispered into his ear, "Alright Rookie. You're supposed to take control of the match. Let me throw out around for a minute and you can make a huge comeback and win the crowd over." Now this was more like it. Finally, this Crimson Crusher was beginning to show Adam the respect he deserved.

 Adam whispered back to the Crusher, "Bout time, Jobber-boy. Send me into the ropes twice and on the second time, I'll come off with a cross body block. From there, it will all be downhill for you."

 "Sounds like a plan," the Crusher replied as he started to really crank on the pressure. Adam found himself being driven to his knees. His arms ached and sweat was already pouring off him. The waist of his silver/white trunks was wet with sweat and he was starting to lose his grip on the Crusher's hands.

 Adam made his stand when his second knee hit the mat. "This is as far as I'm going," thought Adam. To his great chagrin, the pressure kept mounting and he felt like the Crusher was going to break his arms! He was losing feeling in his wrists as he whispered angrily back to his opponent, "Hey, what the hell are you doing!"

 "My job, asshole," replied the Crusher. "Shut up and take it, rookie!" More and more pressure piled on until Adam found that the crusher had not only brought him to his knees, but his hands were almost on the mat in front of him too. A member of the crowd shouted out something about the Crusher holding Adam in place for some doggy style action and the cheers went up to the rafters.

 When Adam couldn't take the pain any longer, he began yelling. That stopped abruptly when the Crimson Crusher's boot met his face. Adam was thrown backward where he lay sprawled on his back. The crowd was lifting the roof with cheering as the Crusher lifted the Champion by the hair and sent him into the ropes. The muscle boy came off the ropes and was immediately powerslammed into the mat with authority. Adam's body bucked involuntarily a couple of times as pain shook his spine. He arched upward and put a hand on his lower back.

 The Crusher, who had been playing to the crowd, took the opportunity to scoop up the cocky champ and hold his arm in a hammerlock behind his back while slamming him back to the mat on top of it. His arm and back now in pain, Adam couldn't understand what the Crusher was doing! Pro-Wrestling was supposed to be for show. Neither slam was pulled and the Crusher had almost broken his arm twice now. Adam decided that he would have to start fighting fire with fire. As soon as he took the Crusher down with the flying cross body, he was going to start piling on the pain too. Two could play at this game.

 Adam was lifted unmercifully to his feet by the hair and was sent into the ropes for the second time. On cue, Adam came off the ropes with his flying cross body block, but instead of finding his jobber waiting for him, he was met with a huge dropkick that landed right in the centre of his wide open and defenceless belly! The air left Adam as he came crashing back to the mat. The noise of the crowd faded in his ears as he struggled to get breath. The massive dropkick had seemed to reach all the way back into his body to his spine! His arms and legs were flailing back and forth in a desperate effort to get oxygen into his lungs.

 The crowd was on its feet as their hero, the Crimson Crusher strutted back and forth in the ring. Seeing that his victim was about to pass out from lack of air, the Crusher slapped him full force in the face. Adam gasped and fell back to the mat. The sound of the crowd came rushing back to him as he sucked air in from the surprise slap to the face. Coughing and the pain set in as Adam came back to his senses. He was given little rest though, as the Crusher seized both of his legs and lifted them into a V. Turning his head left to right, taking in the screaming crowd, and letting its energy power him, the Crusher stomped a boot straight down into Adam's gut.

 "OOOFF!" and air were all that escaped Adam's lips. The crowd cheered for more and the Crimson Crusher was quick to provide for them. Stomp after stomp rained down onto the fallen champion as the crowd counted each with fervour. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10! The Crusher stomped away at Adam's abs, all the while getting lower and lower until the tenth blow was a heel stomp to the balls of the tormented muscle-boy. Working the crowd up even more, the Crusher threw Adam's legs to the mat and ran to the corner, climbing to the top rope. There wasn't a seat in the place that had an ass resting in it-the entire crowd was on its feet. Some fans were yelling out requests as the Crusher prepared for his next devastating manoeuvre. Unable to get his breath back, Adam tried to look through the haze of pain clouding his vision. As his gaze swept the crowd, he noticed that there wasn't a single woman in the building. Several of the guys had taken their shirts off, while still others were rubbing their hands over their crotches, unable to contain themselves. Adam was disgusted. He had lived in Houston for a while now, but was always careful to avoid the gay population. It wasn't that he feared them. He just didn't care for them. Seeing this many gay men in one place started to turn his stomach.

 He had actually made it to his knees when the Crusher grabbed his head and pulled him face first into his own rock hardness. Something inside of Adam snapped and he fought to get his face away from the Crusher's manhood. The grip of the bigger man was too much, though and he was forced to endure having someone's hardon in his face. Determined to get out of his predicament, Adam did the only thing he could do. He threw his fist straight up into the bulge in the Crusher's tights. Immediately, he was released and he staggered to his feet as the Crimson Crushers hands flew to between his legs.

 Knowing that he had to take control here and now, or lost it forever, Adam rushed forward and levelled the Crusher with a clothesline. The crowd let's disapproval be known, and now it was the Crusher's turn to writhe on the mat. Picking his man up, Adam sent the Crusher into the rope, but followed rather than wait for him to rebound. As the Crusher hit the ropes, Adam drove his knee full force into the midsection of the Crimson Crusher. This sent the big man crashing through the ring ropes and down to the floor of the Sport-a-torium. The Champion was getting his strength back and slipped out of the ring to the outside. He picked the crusher up and drove him back first into the side of the ring. Once more, the crowd was booing and throwing their plastic cups of beer at the young muscle stud who was now in control of one of their own.

 Adam repeated the move, half to hurt his opponent, and half to anger the crowd of gay men that were already too excited in his opinion. Pinning the Crusher to the side of the ring, Adam went to work trying to remove the mask covering the Crusher's face. He had managed to undo the ties that held it in place when a cup of beer crashed into the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up, you bunch of faggots!" Adam screamed at the crowd. "A real man doesn't need to hide behind a mask to fight!" The young stud turned to continue the removal of the mask when the Crusher began to struggle to keep the mask in place. Smiling sharply to himself, Adam administered a quick but painful knee to the Crusher's balls. That took the fight out of the bigger man. A few seconds later, the mask came away in his hand. Without looking at his opponent, Adam turned to the crowd and held the mask up for everyone to see! He had been tricked into wrestling a faggot in front of a bunch of backwoods hicks that were gay too! He was happy to give a little payback to this lousy bunch of inbred assholes.

 A big mountain man of a bear spit in Adam's face as he paraded the mask past him. Anger, red and hot as hellfire, filled Adam. He may not be the crowd favourite. He may be straight in a room of queers, but by god, nobody spat at him and got away with it! "You fucking backwoods fagot!" Adam screamed as he lunged at the bearded man and seized his shirt in his left hand while a roundhouse right slammed into the man's jaw. Too late, though did Adam realize his mistake as the man's buddies to the left and right grabbed Adam and held him in place while the mountain man regained his senses. It seemed to Adam as though time itself had slowed as he watched the man draw a big meaty fist back and thrust it forward to slam into Adam's mouth. The force was tremendous-enough to send an average man flying backward. Adam, though was trapped in the grip of the mountain man's friends and the only movement he made was the snapping backward of his head. This sent blood from his busted lip spraying out into the crowd.

 The mountain man looked to the ring and grinned, showing a mouth with as many gaps as teeth. "Turn him around and hold him boys." As they did so, the man to the left held an arm. Likewise, the man on the right trapped the other while the mountain man grabbed Adam's hair and yanked his head back, holding him in place. Then Adam saw it. There, on the top rope was the Crimson Crusher, unmasked and pissed! Adam got a good look at his face as the Crusher leapt into the air and came crashing down with a double axe handle smash to his chest! It felt like a ton of bricks had landed on him. He knew at least one rip popped. The pain in his chest was sharp with each breath. His strength left him and the only thing holding him up was the grip of the men in the crowd. Through it all, though, the disbelief was the dominant thing in his thoughts. The Crimson Crusher was Rod "The Bod" Richards-the man whose title had been taken away and given to Adam. He thought Rod had slunk away to hide his head in humiliation. Instead, Rod Richards had come to his lowly federation and had raised an army of faggots just to get his revenge on him. That may not have been the case, but it seemed to Adam to be true. The other thought that kept running through his head was, "Rod Richards is gay?" Never mind the fact that this homophobe was trapped in a building with a crowd of horny gay backwoods men. Never mind the fact that one of his ribs was broken and blood was trickling from a busted lip. Adam just couldn't understand how Rod Richards, the man who was as tough and rugged as they came, was gay. He was the last man in the world that Adam could imagine as a sissy. The idea consumed him. He was aware of Rod slamming his body around and finally rolling him back into the ring. He barely felt it when rod dropped an elbow on his sternum. Adam was lost in disbelief.

 Rod dropped to lay across Adam's chest, pinning him to the mat. "What's the matter, boy? Didn't see it coming?" Adam just stared into the eyes of this fag who once was a real man's man. "It's just a difference of opinion," Rod Said through a handsome smile. "But don't let it worry you." By now, the referee was counting the three count. 1….2….. "I'm not here to fuck you" Rod jerked Adam's head and shoulders up off of the mat, breaking the three count. "I'm only here to give you pain. Pain and humiliation the same that was given to me when they gave you my belt." With that, Rod pulled Adam to his feet, kicked him in the breadbasket, and slowly locked the muscle stud into a painful abdominal stretch.

 Adam screamed in pain as his broken rib was crunched in the agonizing hold. To make it as painful as possible, Rod dug his hands into Adam's side. Unable to escape the hold, Adam could do little more than yell and moan in agony. He would have submitted, but there was nobody to hear it. The referee, seeing that Rod had matters taken care of, had taken a seat in the crowd and was focusing his attention elsewhere on the sweaty bodies of the men present-some of which had taken matters well into hand.

 Adam suffered beautifully in the hold until Rod tired of it. He dumped his boy to the mat and leaned back against the rope to enjoy the site. Adam was struggling to get back to his knees. The pain wracking his body was obvious. Adam's breathing was laboured and his whole body shook with the effort to get up. Rob rubbed his cock with hand as he imagined the effect his next his next move would have on the man who was given his title. Unable to hold back anymore, Rod knelt behind Adam and waited while Adam got to all fours. Rod held up his fist, asking the crowd for their approval. Their shouts and cheers were all the encouragement he needed. Rod brought the fist down and through his opponent's split legs. His forearm smashed into the younger man's balls, crushing them into his pelvic bone. Adam Threw back his head and screamed as Rod snaked a hand down the back of Adam's trunks, grasping him roughly at the base of his ball sac. Rod jerked back and forced Adam to scramble to his feet. Keeping the pressure up, Rod's right hand was a fist full of Adam's large balls while his left held the rookie's head by the hair. Slowly, the humiliation tour began as Adam was walked around the ring on his tiptoes. Pulled upward by his balls, Adam Screamed and clawed the air in front of him. The pain was excruciating. To make it worse, Rod began using his finders to kneed Adam's orbs, grinding them together.

 "Please, Rod! Please stop! You can have the belt. Anything you want, just please stop! You're killing me!" Adam's pleas went unheeded as he was brought from corner to corner. The crowd was screaming for Rod to take Adam's balls. This brought pride swelling up in Rod. He had this young upstart right where he wanted him. Rod gave Adam's balls one last jerk before releasing his victim to the mat. Adam curled into a foetal position and sobbed in pain. The crowd was lost in the ecstasy of it as several of the men present were openly having sex. One member of the crowd with features similar to Adam's was being held down and gang raped. Other members of the audience were demanding satisfaction in the ring. It was for these men that Rod slipped out of the ring, grasped Adam's legs, and pulled his crotch into the ring post, pole racking him. The pain was too much for Adam as he passed out. The pain of the pole racking was a mere loving caress compared to the shock of being awakened by the six crowd members who stood above him pouring ice cold beer down on top of him. Adam shrieked in pain as the cold sent a muscle contraction through his body. He tried to get up, but two of the larger men stepped down onto his outstretched hands, pinning them to the mat. Another larger man took a comfortable position atop Adam's chest. The broken rib in Adam's side complained like a woman as he was crushed by the weight of the man atop Adam's chest. For a second, Adam thought it fitting that God would take the pain in the side of his namesake and make a woman out of it.

 Rod, who was outside the ring, took Adam's legs and wrapped them around the ring post, locking him in a figure four. Rod enjoyed Adam's screams from outside the ring as he bounced up and down to increase the torture. There were no words, no pleas for mercy or help in Adam's screams--Only the sound of a man who was on the verge of breaking. One final jerk of his weight and Rod was given the pleasure of hearing Adam's knee dislocate with a sickening pop!

 Adam's head was jerking back and forth from the pain as Rod released the figure four and tested the motion of Adam's knee. "That's enough guys," Rod said with satisfaction. "That should be enough to take him out of action for a while. Drag him into the centre, though. I gotten my payback. It's time you got yours too." The men did as Rod requested. Adam was unable to put up any resistance as he was dragged into the centre of the ring. Rod followed and knelt beside the once proud muscle stud.

 "I think you've suffered enough for taking my belt. That knee will take a while to heel, especially since there's no doctor here to set it in place again. Also, I can tell by the bruising on your side that I've taken one of your ribs too. By the time you're able to wrestle again, they'll have found someone to replace you. You'll be old news. If you're willing, though, there's always a place here in our after hours circuit for a jobber like you. Interested?" Rod's smile told Adam that he had accomplished what he has set out to do. He hadn't recovered his title, but rather destroyed the man who took it from him.

 It took everything in his power for Adam to mutter his reply, "Fuck you, you god damned faggot."

 Rod smiled again and stood. "I thought you'd say that." Rod walked to the corner and grabbed the mic. "Gentlemen, before the sport-a-torium opened tonight, there were three tickets placed under three chairs. Check your seat to see if you're the one of the lucky winners!" A cheer went up again throughout the crowd. As three men stepped forward to claim their prize. "Ticket number 1, step forth please!"

 A smaller man in dirty overalls climbed into the ring. "What's your name, sir?" Rod asked.

 "Uh.. Zeke, sir," the man answered in a small voice. It was clear that he was shy.

 "Zeke, as holder of the first ticket, you get to pick one wrestling move that you've always wanted to learn or use. Adam Price here will be our practice dummy! So, which move would you like to learn?" Rod asked.

 Zeke smiled from ear to ear and said in a quiet voice, "I'd sure love to get to put him in a Boston crab.

 "A BOSTON CRAB, GENTLEMEN!" The crowd gave its approval as Rod stepped to Adam who was trying to back away in terror. "Oh, no you don't, come back here!" Rod ordered Adam as he drug him back to the center of the ring by the foot of the leg with the dislocated knee. Adam bellowed in pain and nausea swept over him. With quick efficiency, Rod, "The Bod" Richards rolled Adam onto his belly and instructed Zeke to take Adam's legs under his arms and sit back. Adam screamed in pain as both his back and knee were tortured. "Pull back, Zeke. Go ahead, Adam won't mind," Rod encouraged.

 Zeke smiled and sat back, getting comfortable. Adam was wailing and pounding the mat, desperate to end the pain. "Now, Zeke. If you want to make this hold really effective, snake your hand down and grab your opponent's balls. If he refuses to submit, select the ball that you really want to abuse and squeeze it between your thumb and finger."

 "What about the referee?" asked Zeke.

 "Just wait till his back is turned to attack his balls. That's the easy part. But pretend the ref's not looking. Go ahead and take your practice dummy's balls," Rod instructed. Zeke grinned again and groped Adam's balls. He selected the left ball and began to apply pressure. This time, Adam screamed and begged for mercy. Zeke continued to apply pressure to Adam's balls and he relished the sound of another man under his control. Eventually, Zeke dropped Adam's legs and maintained the claw on his balls.

 "Did that feel good?" Asked Rod as Zeke finally allowed his practice dummy to slump back to the mat.

 "It was GREAT! Thank you, Rod! Thank you so much. Before I go, can I get your autograph?" Zeke was excited to the point that it looked like he would explode with joy. Rod nodded and Zeke produced a marker from his pocket. Rod took the cap off and signed "To my good friend Zeke, from Rod "The Bod" Richards" across Adam's ass. Giving back the marker, he then stripped the trunks off Adam and gave them to his fan who left the rind to go try them on.

 "Ticket number 2, step forth!" A short but burly man stepped up to collect his prize. "Sir, what's your name?" asked Rod.

 "Thomas Grimes, sir," answered the man.

 "Well Thomas, how would you like some target practice?" asked Rod.

 "That'd be great, Rod!" said Thomas happily. Together the two lifted Adam and locked his arms in the ropes.

 "Take a few minutes to sharpen your aim. Don't hold back. You've got five minutes to work him over as much as you want." Rod gave Adam to Thomas while he left the ring to get Adam's TV Championship belt. As Thomas rained blow after blow to Adam's face, chest, ribs and balls, Rod spent his time removing the metal plates from the belt. Once they were removed, he used red spray paint to write something on the belt. When he returned to the ring, Adam was little more than a whimpering mass of bruises. One eye was swollen closed and blood poured freely from his nose. His balls were a sight to behold, though. They were swollen to twice their regular size and the left one was dark purple.

 "Thank you, Thomas for coming tonight! We hope to see you again next week!" Rod dismissed Thomas. Smiling at his handiwork, Thomas gave the rookie champion one final boot to the balls before he left. Adam tried his best to pull his legs to his chest, but his knee and the pain in his chest refused to let him.

 "Lastly, ticket number three, please step into the ring." Rod called.

 As the man holding the last ticket approached the ring, the mountain man that has spit on Adam earlier in the night, stopped him and bought the ticket for a wad of cash. Adam began to sob and plead again when he saw that it was the big mountain man from before.

 "I'm Big John, Rod. What's my prize?" John demanded.

 Rod announced, "You sir, have the privilege of being the first to fuck this bigoted ass hole!"

 The crowd erupted into cheers and words of encouragement were yelled to Big John. John smiled his gap-toothed smile as he walked to his prize, unhooked his arms and threw Adam to the mat. John was already hard when he dropped his pants, revealing a cock that was at least 9 inches and thick as a summer sausage! Adam clawed the mat trying to crawl away, but Rod stopped him and held him in place while Big John took up position.

 Adam looked pleadingly into Rod's eyes. "Please, man. Please don't let him do this to me. He'll rip me apart, PLEASE! NO!!!"

 Big John forced his huge cock into the sobbing Adam and began to thrust back and forth. Adam felt pain like nothing before as his ass was split by the huge mountain man. His cried were lost in the din as the crowd hollered its approval! John's thrusting was getting more and more furious and Adam's body was jerking and spasming out of control. Rod took the opportunity to get a little pleasure of his own, dropping his tights and forcing his own 7 inches down Adam's throat.

 Adam coughed and gagged, but Rod held his head in place as he face fucked the young stud. Adam couldn't help the stirring in his own loins. The pain in his body and the pleasure in his ass gave him a rock hard boner. Rod shot his load before big john could and Adam tried to spit, but couldn't with Rod's dick still in his throat. Finally, he was forced to swallow the hot load in his mouth.

 Rod pulled out and looked at the beaten muscle-boy still getting fucked by the mountain man. Bringing the mic to his lips, he said to the crowd, "Let's hear it for John's endurance!" The crowd hooted and shouted, beginning a chant of "John, John John!" With each cry of his name, Big John thrust his meat into the tight ass of Adam Price. Eventually, John stiffened and released his semen into the body of the rookie.

 The pulling out was almost worse than the going in, and Adam screamed in pain once more as the meat plugging his ass hole was removed. Before Adam could slump to the mat, though, Rod asked John for help as they fastened Adam's championship belt around his waist. A few drops of super glue ensured that the snaps wouldn't come undone. Once that was finished, Big John stood, cum still dripping from his massive tool. He and Rod left the beaten, broken, and fucked muscle stud in the ring and they made their way to the parking lot with the rest of the crowd. Adam was left alone to wallow in his own misery and humiliation, not only at having been beaten and fucked, but that he got a hardon while it was happening. Shame washed over him as he rolled over onto his back. His boner was hard as ever and demanded release. Taking his dick into his hands, he jacked himself on in the ring, all the while wondering what he had become……..

 When Adam staggered out into the parking lot, it was way past midnight. All the cars were gone and nothing but a lone street light hummed in the distance. He made his way to where the van that he rode in was parked, but found it locked up tight. Beaten, naked and alone, Adam wondered how he would ever get back to Houston. He looked down at his belt and saw the words that Rod had painted there. "TWF jobber and fuck hole free for your use." Terror filled Adam as he realized that if anyone saw him with the belt on, they would rape him, especially in this part of the backwoods. He realized also that if he stayed here, he would definitely get raped. Picking the lesser of the two evils, Adam limped out into the night. He had no idea how he was going to get home without clothes or wallet, but it was a better alternative to staying and becoming the sex slave of a bunch of mountain men. Rod had taken everything from him, his belt, his body. He had even taken his dignity. Rod had left Adam with a small piece of knowledge, though. Revenge could be planned. And a trap could be sprung. Rod had taught him that no matter what he had gone through, as long as he was still alive, he could get revenge. As Adam staggered painfully into the night, he began to plan how to get his vengeance.

 The End