The Next Level:
The Defenseman vs. El Macho Gabacho
By: The Defenseman
It was 10AM on a Saturday morning, about two months ago.
The Amtrak sped silently past the beautiful Pacific coastline, but my mind
wasn't on the scenery. It was on the big man, El Macho Gabacho.
I ran across Gabacho's ad on one of those wrestling
personals web pages on the net. Had some good photos of him pounding on some
jobber. He was just my type---big, dark-haired, tanned, thick coat of fur
across his impressive chest. Typical Californian. About six inches taller and
thirty pounds heavier than me. I love taking on bigger guys, using my
relatively small stature and low center of gravity to get inside a big man and
inflict some real damage. My band was planning a West Coast tour in August, so
I figured I might be able to get some time away to go toe-to-toe with Macho. So,
I e-mailed him a challenge and we exchanged the obligatory
"I'll-kick-your-fucking-ass" e-mails. But then plans fell through and
the band decided it would be cheaper to tour the East coast again. So, I sent
Macho the usual
"Sorry-but-ain't-gonna-happen-this-summer--maybe-some-other-time"
e-mail and figured that was that.
But, as fate would have it, a series of improbable (but otherwise boring) events found me in San Diego on a Saturday morning with 24 hours on my hands and nothing to do. In my address book, I had Gabacho's e-mail and street address, but no phone number. I tried calling information, but they wouldn't give me a phone number with only a street address, and I was correct in assuming that Gabacho wasn't the guy's real last name. So, I decided to just risk it and take the hour-long train ride to Oceanside. If he wasn't there, I figured I could just hang out on the beach all day. If he was there, I could surprise him and kick his ass good.
As always, I had prepared well for the fight. I found
photos of his past bouts, read a few firsthand accounts of his wrestling
matches, talked to a few of his former victims…er…opponents about possible weak
points. Apparently, the man had very few. Forget about his arms---guys told me
that Macho's arms were like steel cables, impervious to the most brutal
twisting, bending, or boot attack. If there were soft spots, and these were
only rumored, they were supposedly his left leg and lower back. I leaned back
in the seat, watching the ocean go by, thinking about the rabbit punches that I
would soon be hurtling at the big man's kidneys.
20 minutes later, I got off the train and headed west
towards the shore. Shit, it was cold for California! Low sixties and windy (so
much for the beach…). I had decided to wear just my leather vest with no shirt,
and I was regretting it. My nipples were rock hard as I strolled past the small
beach cottages and ice cream stands. From our previous correspondence, I knew
that Gabacho lived less than a half mile from the station and in no time, I
found his street. As I approached his house, I could hear the sound of
hammering. I slowly walked up the short driveway; the garage door was open and
the place was a handyman's dream---there were 2x4s and piles of wood covering
half the floor. A power saw, surrounded by ample piles of saw dust, took up
nearly the entire back corner. One whole wall was covered with hammers,
screwdrivers, wrenches, pliers of every conceivable size. The right side of the
garage was bare except for a thick blue wrestling mat, 10'x10' square.
In the center of the garage, with his back to me, stood
Gabacho, pounding nail after nail into wood. Shit, he was a big man, a lot
bigger than his pictures let on. Broad, tanned shoulders, biceps bulging with
each swing of the hammer, big legs in tight Levi's, denim jacket, construction
boots, work gloves, hard hat. He hadn't heard me approach, so I positioned
myself behind him until I left a shadow on the board that he was nailing.
He swung around quickly. "Can I help you,
stranger?" What a fucking bear! I had seen fight pictures of him on the
Internet, but they didn't do him justice. And he must have gained at least
20lbs of muscle since those pics had been taken. Massive slabs of pecs covered
in thick hair, trailing down into the waistband of his skin-tight jeans, black
goatee, handsome, chiseled tanned face. Friendly, but on guard.
"Howdy, couldn't help but notice the mat. You
wrestle much?"
A slight grin crossed his lips, then quickly faded.
"I wrestle some."
"Don't suppose I could talk you into a match…looks
like your kinda busy…"
Gabacho eyed me warily. I could tell he was already
looking for weak points he could exploit during our fight. Sign of a pro. He
also could smell a set-up. Another sign of a pro. "No, man, I could use a
break from work. I've been working four hours straight, trying to get this hot
tub installed in my back yard. What kinda fight you have in mind?
"I don't know. Best two out of three falls? Winner
decided by either submission or knockout. You up for that kind of fight?"
He put down the hammer and cracked his knuckles. Without
saying a word, he clicked a small device that was hanging off his tool belt. My
head turned with the whirr of the automatic garage door closing behind me.
Gabacho flashed me a toothy grin, "Yeah, I'm up for it."
Round I
He took off his hard hat and walked over to the wall to
hang it up. I figured this was my best chance to put an early hurting on the
guy, so I reached into my pocket and pulled out the chain that I use to attach
my keys to my belt loop. I unclipped it from my pants, wrapped it around either
hand, and pounced on Gabacho. He never knew what hit him as I cinched it around
his neck and pulled with all my might. He let out a gargled scream, his hands
instantly tearing at mine, trying to relieve the pressure. Macho attempted to
flip me over his shoulder and, for a second, I could feel my boots leaving the
ground. He was struggling like a madman and I was losing grip of the chain. He
was using his height against me and I knew I had to get this tough
son-of-a-bitch to the ground. So, I leaned back as hard as I could, then
delivered four hard knees to Gabacho's lower back. The big man dropped to one knee,
his eyes bugging out, spit flying from the corners of his mouth as I continued
the assault on his lower back, kicking it harder and harder with the toe of my
steel-toe motorcycle boot.
I could tell that he was losing some of his fight when he
dropped to both knees. I took advantage of the opportunity by digging my knee
into his back and leaning back as far as I could. Gabacho's head was pulled all
the way back until he was looking directly into my eyes. He knew he was in big
trouble and I savored the moment. In no time I had him down on all fours,
crawling across the mat towards the back of the garage. I was riding him like a
pony, trying to cut of his oxygen supply, letting up a little bit every now and
then, just enough to let him suck in a few gasps, then pulling back even
tighter. I was enjoying controlling this stud so much that I almost didn't
notice that he was slowly maneuvering us towards a footlong section of 2x4
lying in a scrap pile near the edge of the mat. Just as it was inches from his
outstretched hand, I cinched up the chain with one hand, leaned back hard and
applied a brutal claw to his forehead. He bucked back wildly, but I had my legs
wrapped around his stomach in a crushing scissors hold. "You didn't think
I was gonna let you get your hands on that, now did you?" As I squeezed
the remaining air from his lungs, I moved the claw from his head to his chest,
savagely ripping at his left pec, digging deep below the muscle. As the air
left him, Gabacho slowly fell backwards until we were both lying on the mat. I
could feel the pec muscle begin to involuntarily twitch between my fingers.
I finally released the claw and, with considerable
effort, hoisted the big man to his feet by the chain that was still wrapped tightly
around his neck. He let out a gurgling noise and the added pressure to his
windpipe made Macho's tongue protrude slightly from his lips. I again cinched
up the chain with one hand, grabbed him by the hair with the other, swung him
around in a huge arc and smashed his head into the cement wall. It made an
echoing CLONK and Gabacho let out an agonized groan. I pulled him back by the
hair and chain and held his face centimeters from mine. "Hey there,
Gabacho, my name is the Defenseman, from Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly
Love. I think you've heard of me…" With that, I slammed his head into the
wall again, then pulled him back by his hair up close. His face was beet red
and every muscle in his neck was clenched. "I don't know how you West
Coast pussy porn star wanna-bes fight in California, but on the East coast, we
don't fuck around." I pulled him back by the hair, then smashed his
forehead into the wall five more times, the last time grinding his face into
the rough cement.
When I pulled him in close again, his eyes were moving
independently, floating around like two olives in a jar. I aimed right between
the two and landed a vicious head butt. I could feel his knees start to wobble
and I knew that the only thing that was keeping him up was the chain I still
had wrapped around his neck. So, I figured fuck it, grabbed him by the back of
the pants and catapulted his entire body into the wall. Gabacho hit hard,
staggering backwards then dropping to one knee as I let the chain unwrap from
around his neck.
I wrapped the chain around my fist and started pummeling
Gabacho in the kidneys and lower back, driving whatever air he may have had
left out of his lungs. I then focused my assault on the side and back of
Macho's head. Each punch elicited a painful groan and a shudder, and drove him
closer to the ground. Finally, I clutched my fists together over my head and,
with a loud roar, brought them down on the top of Gabacho's head. He fell to
his back, his massive body convulsing from the blow. I stood over him, enjoying
the power I had over him. I grabbed his legs, spread them, and planted a boot
stomp on Macho's ample basket. A high-pitched squeal escaped from his lips, but
he was too hurting even to curl up into a fetal position to protect himself. So,
I spread his legs again, with all my weight, dropped a head butt into his
crotch. His face was a mask of pain and he clutched at his aching balls, trying
to catch his breath.
Gabacho wasn't the only one getting winded. Beating on
this big man was beginning to wear me out. And he didn't look like he was
submitting any time soon. Plus, I wanted to make sure he had enough fight in
him so I could abuse him again during the second fall. I circled around his
semi-unconscious body until I was standing near his head. His eyes were
swimming in a sea of pain, trying to focus, his huge pecs heaving, sucking in
air. I gave him a smile, then jumped in the air and dropped my knee across his
forehead. He let out one final groan, then his eyes shut and his head fell to
one side. I let out a whoop, a rush of power overtook me and I started laying
boot after boot into the pecs and abs of the unconscious big man. "I guess
we both know who the better man is now! You think you're so fucking tough?
You're no match for me! I can't believe I traveled over 2000 miles for this! I
could have whipped wimps back in Philly and saved myself the airfare!" I
tossed the chain down on the floor next to his unmoving body and strutted
across the garage. I pulled up a stool and sat down, relishing my apparent
victory. I figured that there was no way Gabacho was gonna be able to come back
after a beating like that. Hell, I didn't even know if he would want, or be
able to for that matter, fight for a second fall. However, I would soon find
out the price of underestimating El Macho Gabacho.
Round II
I was just beginning to catch my breath again when he
came to. He held his head in both hands and kinda rolled around from side to
side for a minute. But he finally shook his head to clear out the cobwebs, then
slowly pulled himself to his feet. I was amazed how fast he seemed to
recuperate. He sat down on the saw horse and deliberately unlaced his boots,
taking his time. Taking advantage of the time I was giving him. He slipped them
off, then stripped out of his Levi's, showing off his muscular and tanned legs
in a pair of skin tight white briefs. Gabacho then methodically put his boots
back on. Silently, I did the same.
Gabacho shook his head and eyed me up and down,
reassessing me as an opponent. "Hmmm…you're not too bad, punk, when you
get the jump on a guy. But I'm ready for you this time. Are you ready to take
it to the next level?"
We circled each other warily, but I could tell by the
smirk on his face that I hadn't hurt nearly as much as I originally thought. I
feigned a left jab, then threw a hard right hook towards Macho's nose. In one
swift move, he dodged the punch, grabbed my right wrist, and swung my arm
around in a painful hammerlock. I slapped at my shoulder and danced around the
mat, trying to relieve the pressure, Macho yanking harder and harder on my
wrist. With a speed that surprised me, he spun around me in a second, still
keeping hold of the hammerlock, but now standing in front of me,
belly-to-belly. Before I knew what was happening, he was pushing me backwards
hard and I hit the concrete wall with my arm still pinned behind my back.
I let out a yelp and stumbled away from the wall, holding
my stinging arm. Gabacho was on me in an instant, with a forearm smash to the
back of my head that sent me face-first into the mat. Macho grabbed me by the
hand and started laying boot after boot into my hurting bicep. I tried with all
my might to yank my arm from harm's way, but he had a tight grip on my wrist,
alternating kicks, stomps, and knee drops into the rapidly-softening muscle.
Gabacho threw himself in the air and landed with an elbow drop directly in the
damaged bicep. He knelt on my wrist and went to work with a double bicep claw,
ripping into my flesh. I couldn't stop screaming, my whole body flopping around
on the mat. "Awww…does that hurt, Defenseman?" I finally found the
strength to coil up and kick my boots into his chest with enough force to send
him sprawling onto his butt. Gabacho rolled off the mat, landing next to the
saw horse, coughing and gasping for air.
I pulled myself to my feet, my right arm hanging
uselessly at my side, and rushed across the mat, determined to do some damage
on the big man before he could regain his senses. But just as reached down to
grab him by the hair, he sent a fist flying into my balls. I dropped to my
knees next to him, a high pitched wail exploding from my lips. "We know
how to fight dirty here on the West Coast, too, asshole." Gabacho grabbed
my busted arm, brought it up over my head, then slammed it down hard across the
saw horse in front of me. My arm bent in a way that I had never seen in before
and I was on the ground in a second, cradling my nearly-destroyed arm. Macho
slowly circled me, smiling, then dropped to his knees next to me. He grabbed my
arm and, twisting it violently, put it in a torturous arm bar. I screamed an
agonized submission, fearing that he would break my arm in two. But Gabacho
just kept increasing the pressure, looking around innocently, "Did someone
say something? For a second, it sounded like a whupped wrestler, crying in
pain, but it may have been some kids playing outside." I tried to yell out
again, but Gabacho placed a knee on my face, crushing my mouth into the mat.
Before I could get loose from under him, he broke the hold, laughing and
circling around me.
I thought the round was over and I rolled onto my back,
gasping and nursing my slinky arm. But Gabacho apparently had other ideas and
before I knew what hit me, he had grabbed me by the vest and dragged me to my feet.
"What, did you think this was over? I didn't hear any submission!"
Before I could protest, Gabacho wrapped his arm around my neck, spun around,
and dropped me to the mat with a brutal neck breaker. Everything went dark for
a second as I lay on the mat, trying to clear my head. But Gabacho was
relentless and he dragged me back to my feet, only to repeat the crippling
move.
Gabacho grabbed me by the nipples and, twisting them,
dragged me to my feet (which hurt like a mutherfucker). He instantly put me in
a headlock, grinding my ears with his powerful biceps. Macho took three running
steps, dragging my stumbling body behind him and slammed me, head first into
the concrete wall. I was seeing stars and a loud echoing rang through my ears.
I felt my knees buckling under me, but Gabacho held me up in the headlock
grinding it tighter. The big man finally released the hold and effortlessly
spun me around. Before I knew what hit me, he had me in a sadistic hangman, his
hands wrapped around my throat, my feet dangling two feet from the floor as he
laid me out on his arched back. I tried to choke out a submission, but Gabacho
moved one of his hands over my mouth, stifling my pleading. My face was beet
red and I ripped at his hands, trying to break the hold. Gabacho bounced up and
down, jerking my neck back and forth, arching my back even farther. Finally, he
let go and I fell face-first to the mat, desperately gasping for air.
Macho grabbed me by the legs and flipped me onto my back.
He hooked my boots under his arms and leaned back, putting incredible pressure
on my neck. He leaned even farther back, his ass inches from my face, and let
out a huge laugh. He bounced up and down and the agony in my neck was
unbelievable. I screamed another submission, but Gabacho just leaned back even
farther, smothering my protests with his round ass. He held the hold for what
seemed like an eternity, until my muffled screams of submission were reduced to
pained whimpers.
Gabacho moved onto my lower back. He had a job to do, and
he was hellbent on making me pay for the first round. He scooped me up and
dropped me over his outstretched knee, arching my back like a bow. With one
hand, he pushed down on my face, his hand covering my mouth and making any
submission impossible. With the other, he applied a vicious claw to my
vulnerable lower abdomen, working on the muscles immediately above my cock. My
toes were barely touching the mat and I thrashed back and forth, trying to get
off his knee. He finally let me go and I fell to the mat, holding my inflamed
gut. Macho scooped me up again and dropped me, back first across the saw horse.
I let out a scream that surprised even me and hit the ground, convulsing in
pain.
Gabacho sat down on my lower back, hooked his hand under
my chin and pulled back on my leg. I tried once again to offer my submission,
but the words were garbled in Macho's chin hold. Gabacho mocked me while I
pounded helplessly on the mat, "Is that barking I hear? Why it's Lassie!
What's that Lassie? Timmy is getting whipped in the garage?" He pulled
back hard on my neck until my eyes were almost staring at the ceiling, all the
while laughing and mocking me. From there, Gabacho maneuvered me into
half-camel clutch, his forearm and bicep wrenching my neck like a vice. I lamely
gasped for air as Gabacho scolded me, "This is how a real man chokes his
opponent! Not with some sissy chain!" He then got me into a full camel
clutch, my arms hanging uselessly over his knees. Gabacho reached around and
grabbed me in a double face claw. "Let's hear you say, I submit SIR!"
I was screaming, hollering, begging Macho for mercy.
"OH GAH I SEHBMIHT SIR!" My words were garbled in Macho's fingers as
he continued to rip and claw into my face.
He continued to mock me by purposely misunderstanding my
screams of submission. "You see mister? You see mister who?" He held
the hold for what seemed like an eternity, tears of agony streaming down my
mangled face. Finally, it was over. Macho released my arms and dropped me hard
to the mat. My entire body was racked with pain. He stood above me and took
hard slaps at the back of my head, yelling, "Nobody beats El Macho Gabacho
like that and gets away with it! Nobody!"
Round III
…I sat on the edge of the mat, holding my head, trying my
best to recuperate. Gabacho paced back and forth on the opposite end of the
mat, egging me on. "One-minute left, Defenseman, or do you just want to
submit now?" The big man slowly peeled off his Demin jacket, "Shit,
punk, you got your ass whupped so bad that I didn't even have to get
undressed!" He untied his boots and took off his socks. Macho stood there,
his dark eyes dancing, his hard jaw set, his tanned body in stark contrast with
his snow-white briefs. "Are ya ready to take it to the next level?"
His words rung in my ears. Next level? How could he
possibly beat me worse? I knew that if I took another mauling like I did the
second round, I would have to be carried out of that garage on a stretcher.
But, somewhere in my heart, a felt a burning and a voice inside of my head
said, "That cocky son-of-a-bitch! Next level? Fuck him! I'll show him the
next fucking level!" I jumped (as best as I could) to my feet with a
renewed confidence that did not go unnoticed by Gabacho. I kicked off my
motorcycle boots and tossed my vest over the saw horse. I slapped at my big
furry chest and motioned him to take his best shot. With that, we ran at each
other like freight trains.
We collided in the center of the mat in a double bear
hug, each of us trying to get the advantage. I locked my hands behind his lower
back and tried to lift up. Macho had me higher up on my chest, so I was able to
use my height to leverage the big man off the ground, but only a few inches. He
let out a yelp as I dug my fists into his lower back, squeezing hard. Unfortunately,
with his jacket off, Gabacho's muscled body was now covered in sweat and I
slowly started losing my grip on him. I could feel him sliding down my chest
and, once his toes touched the floor, I lost hold of him altogether. He wasted
no time in reapplying the bear hug on me, this time bending down to make sure
that he got his grip between my lower back and the start of my rib cage. He
lifted me high and hard, compressing me in his pumped biceps. I arched my back
and wailed in pain, Macho digging his chin into my sternum and shaking me back
and forth like I was a rag doll.
It was getting hard for me to breathe and my eyes were
stinging with the sweat pouring down my forehead. Macho kept pouring in on,
determined to make me submit on the very first hold. He let go of the pressure
for a second, only to reach down and get even a better grip on me. He lifted me
up again and I thought that he was going to break my ribs. My screams of pain
were quickly reduced to muffled gasps for air. I knew that if he held me like
this much longer, I might pass out. So, I did what any respectable wrestler
would do in my position. I put my left hand on the big man's forehead, pushed
back and, with my right hand, I raked my fingers across his eyes. Hard. The
next thing I knew, I was out of Gabacho's clutches and flat on my ass on the
mat, the big man holding his face, making noises like a wounded animal.
I took two steps back and bullrushed him, driving my
shoulder into his exposed gut and driving him against the concrete wall, back
first. I pinned him against the wall with a forearm across his chest and drove
fist after fist into his helpless gut. When he put his hands up to protect
himself, I switched approaches and starting ramming my knee into his
midsection, making his defense useless, driving him hands into his weakening
abs. He was gasping for air pretty hard now, so I simultaneously took away my
forearm and kneed him hard in the nuts. As he doubled over, I kicked his feet
out from under him. He missed the mat by inches and his near naked body hit the
concrete hard floor with an audible slap. I grabbed his left leg and stomped on
his inner thigh with my bare foot. His leg instinctively jerked back from the
pain, but I kept a firm hold on his foot and repeated the maneuver ten more
times before MY foot started to hurt. I let go of Macho's leg and he rolled to
back and forth, whimpering, his leg obviously damaged.
I grabbed the busted leg and yanked it around in a
spinning toe hold, then came down with a hard knee to his inner thigh. Macho's
whole body convulsed in pain as I sat there on his thigh, twisting his ankle
like it was the lid off a jar of peanut butter. I looked down at his tortured
face, the muscles in his neck strained, and just laughed. "I'll show you the
next fucking level, you tofu-eating bag of Beach Boy muscle!"
I got to my feet and, yanking hard on the big man's
ankle, went to apply another spinning toe hold. This time, however, Gabacho
reached up and, with one hand, slapped on a devastating combination cock and
ball claw. The pain in my crotch is unbelievable, with Macho digging in deep,
kneading my balls in the palm of his hand, the tip of his index finger gouging
into the sensitive area underneath my cock, between the shaft and the head. I was
paralyzed with pain from the waist down and I could feel my knees starting to
get wobbly. Macho quickly scrambled to his feet, hobbling on his bad leg, and
applied a second claw with his other hand, ripping at my cock with the ferocity
of a wild beast. The agony was unbearable and I could feel myself getting
dizzy.
My knees finally gave way and I expected myself to go
crashing to the mat. To my surprise, the excruciating pain on my cock and balls
got worse. It was then that I realized that my feet were barely touching the
ground. Macho was holding me up solely by my crotch, his biceps bulging as he
lifted me and tore into my mangled equipment. I screamed my submission again
and again but Macho just laughed and shook me around by my cock and sack. Finally,
just when I thought that Macho was literally gonna rip by dick off, he moved
one of his hands to my throat, hoisted me up, and dropped me balls first across
his outstretched knee in a reverse atomic drop. I fell to the mat and wave
after nauseating wave of pain shook every part of my body.
Macho knelt there next to me, a broad smile across his
face. "I did hear you submit just then, didn't I?" I laid there on
the mat, my arms spread eagle at my sides, semi-unconscious with pain. I tried
to speak, but nothing came out. So, I just nodded my head. The smile on the big
man's face evaporated and he laid into me with the cock claw again,
"ANSWER ME! DID I HEAR YOU SUBMIT, YES OR NO?"
I couldn't even lift my arms to defend myself. A gargled
scream left my mouth, my entire body numb with pain, "STOP FUCK YES YES
YES YES PLEASE STOP!"
"Good. That's what I thought you said." With
that, Gabacho got to his feet, put his booted foot on my chest, dragging it
across my nipples to my face, and struck a victory pose. His sweat dripped from
his body; a drop landing on my lips and I could taste the saltiness. And all of
a sudden, he was in the air, Gabacho's body parallel to mine. He landed on top
of me with all his weight, his chest crushing my chest, his crotch crushing my
crotch, his head colliding with mine. It was like being hit by an Amtrak. I
have never felt so much pain in every part of my body at the exact same time.
Things went black for a second and, when I finally did open my eyes, Gabacho
was still laying on top of me, his face inches from mine. He positions his
forearm across my throat and, ever so slowly, begins to increase the pressure.
"You put up a good fight, punk, but this is the
portion of the show where Gabacho takes you out." I could feel myself
getting lightheaded as I vainly gasped for more air. As things start to go
dark, I felt the big man let up on my throat. Above the sound of things rushing
to black, I could hear in the background the victory howl of El Macho Gabacho.
Great story! Macho Gabacho sounds hot as hell
ReplyDeleteThat was awesome! I've never read something from Defenseman before and I absolutely loved it. Macho Gabacho is a true heel and a gentleman, he could have beaten Defenseman up much more on the third round, just like he did in the second, but showed some "mercy" lol.
ReplyDeleteThank you all for enjoying it. I actually have some pics from that fight if you are interested in them.
ReplyDeleteYes, sir!
DeleteOf course we would love some pictures. If you upload them to me, I will try and add them to the story. It would be the first illustrated story on the site.
DeleteAlso, how about a new story?? I know I would love it and your fans would too.
So is this or any of the other Defenseman stories based on real encounters? I absolutely love all the stories. I'd love to see the pics, but I definitely hope to see more stories too
Delete