Drawing courtesy of Marcus at marcuswrest.com
A little housekeeping at the site. I have gone through and tried to clean up all the author pages, character pages, and series in order pages. As you may know, any attempt at a good need on Blogger is punished. Therefore, I had to redo all the links.
So if you find a link that is not working or takes you someplace strange, please leave a comment and I'll fix it. You can also send me an email at manglerwrestling@yahoo.com
Thanks,
[Much apologies, but Cumface realized that I had published the original match and not the rematch. So here is the rematch.]
The
Campground 2: Day 3
Butch vs
Brice, The Rematch
By
The Mangler
The crowd was anxiously awaiting the next match: Butch vs Brice. Their first match (see Brice
vs Bruce) had ended with everyone unsatisfied, except for Angel and the
skinheads. They were delighted with the
results. Butch and Brice had both
demanded that another match be arranged, this time with no “stipulations”
attached to it.
“And now, the referee for the Butch vs. Brice Showdown,
Part Deux, is none other than..” The
announcer stretched out the silence until the crowd started screaming and
yelling obscenities in his direction.
“The impeccably honest and fair ----- Aaaangeeell.”
As Angel walked out of the tent and toward the ring, the
crowd was going batshit crazy. He was
the bastard who had screwed them out of a finish to the first match. And no one thought that Brice and Butch would
agree to him doing this match. Angel
mainly ignored the crowd except for a single “fuck you” hand signal.
He wore standard ref attire—a black and white striped
shirt, pants, and shoes. People were not only surprised that he was the ref but
also surprised at how he was dressed.
A Blast From The Past
I was going through so many old wrestling materials when I came across my copies of BG Wrestling Combat. That was a newsletter that BG sent out. It contains some wrestling miscellaneous, including some photos, a wrestling story, and some drawings. The drawing below was (and still is) one of my favorites and inspired many a fantasy. This was published in 1986.
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Blog Anniversary
(random ramblings from the Mangler)
Today is the 5th anniversary of the rebirth of the Mangler Wrestling site.
You have Alex Miller (The Cave) to thank for that and I truly appreciate him for it. While I was reading his site in 2020, he mentioned (The Cave: Firsts) that one of my stories, ( A Family Affair), was the first wrestling story he read, and he had many complimentary things to say. Interestingly enough, he had some parts of the story he really didn't like (referred to them as yucky), but he mentioned what he did like: is so not my personal taste but the inter-character dynamics got me through that.
I found (and still find) that sentence very interesting. I think inter-character dynamics were the least successful part of my early stories, and while my newer ones are better, I still find them lacking. Alex does a way better job of that, and that is one reason I enjoy his stories so much. He brings his characters to life.
Jobber Billy's torment continues.
TEEN JOBBER HUMILIATION II
By
Ringdoggg
I woke up in my dressing
room, lying on the table. My head felt
like it was going to explode. My fat
penis was still hard as a rock sticking up in the air, out of my pink speedos. I had passed out before I squirted sperm in
front of the massive audience, and I was brought back to the good guy’s locker
room on a stretcher. Not squirting in
public was a pathetic victory, but it was something.
My name is Billy Simpson, and
I’m a small 165-pound professional wrestler.
The promoter in the fed is trying to turn me into a total jobber boy and
he took a big step toward success tonight as I just suffered what could be one
of the most humiliating matches in the history of wrestling. After being beaten to a pulp and not having
any offense at all, my fat penis hardened and stuck up out of my trunks in
plain view of the crowd. They showed
close-ups of it on the huge jumbotron screens.
My only victory at all was not to have squirted against my will.
Marshall & Cumface Vs B&B
By
The Mangler
In the Redneck Arena
“I’ll be damned if I ref that match,” Taylor said.
“What’s the problem?” the commissioner asked.
“What’s the problem?
What’s the fucking problem? Did
you see what those two sons of a bitch did to me the last time I refed for
them?” Taylor asked. (see B vs B)
The commissioner smiled as he said, “Well, yes, I did. And
the fans loved it.”
“Well, I fucking didn’t,” Taylor huffed.
By
Ringdoggg
Throughout the years, many authors have put wrestling stories up on the net in various places. Unfortunately, many of those stories have been lost or disappeared over time. One of my favorite authors used the name Ringdogggg.
Ringdogggg wrote over-the-top jobber abuse and humiliation stories. The action was unrealistic and sometimes horrifying. However, if you were willing to suspend disbelief and accept the stories for what they were, they were very satisfying, especially to those of us who take the sides of the heels. I lost many of those stories due to computer problems and have been unable to find them on the net.
The Gauntlet III:
Marshall vs The
Executioner
By
The
Mangler
Marshall limped through the curtain to the back as the
announcer announced the second wrestler for the next match. He ignored the
argument between Wiley and the league official, Walker, which was taking place
in the aisle of the arena.
The next two wrestlers were well-matched, so Marshall
figured the match would go its full length. He had 20-30 minutes to prepare for
his final bout against The Executioner, so he thought a quick hot shower would
help.
No sooner had he walked into the locker room than a pair
of arms went around his upper chest and under his arms before lifting up and
locking his hand behind his neck, placing him in a perfect full nelson. Almost instantly, he saw Ash, wearing lightweight
boxing gloves, step in front of him and start throwing punches into his abs.
Each punch echoed with a “splat” and the explosion of
sweat droplets that reflected throughout the locker room. Each blow landed deep into Marshall’s already
worked-over abs and felt like a semi driving through him. Ash quickly fell into a routine as he was
used to using Marshall’s abs as his personal speed punching bag. Tonight, he was trying to see how hard he
could hit. Marshall had almost no chance
at defending himself other than trying to tense his abs, which was not very
effective after the abuse from his first two matches.
The blows went on for a little over a full minute—a
lifetime as you were getting your abs destroyed-- before a loud whistle was
heard.
