Trevor vs The Mauler

 

Trevor vs The Mauler

By

The Mangler 

Vandal, The Punksters’ manager, was walking back toward the dressing room after conducting some business with the league's general manager. He stood 5’6” tall and weighed around 150 pounds.  He was dressed in black skaterboy wear.   As he passed one of the security checkpoints at the entrance, he stopped when an audience member walked through the turnstile and headed toward his seat.  What he saw was a 6’1”, 190-pound walking sex machine.  He oozed confidence and sexiness from his every pore. He was wearing a tank top with the Punskters pictured on the back, along with a pair of tight blue jeans, which highlighted his ass to its best advantage.  He had dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and a silver goatee, all on a handsome face.  He had well-defined 45” Pecs, a narrow, 33” waist, gorgeous biceps, and quads.  His chest and abs were hairless.

Vandal altered his course and “accidentally” ran into the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vandal apologized.

“Hey, no problem,” a deep voice replied, causing Vandal’s cock to stir. “Aren’t you the Punksters’ manager?”

Laughing Vandal replied, “Guilty as charged.  I see you are a fan,” pointing at the tank top.

“Always have been, but after last week’s action, I’m a super fan.  That match was absolutely fantastic.  Well, Trevor and Bannon might not think so,” he laughed.

“You would be surprised,” Vandal said in a mysterious voice.  “Hope you got a good seat.”

“Front row, baby, so that I can get a good look at The Mauler mauling Trevor.”  He laughed at the bad pun.

“Excellent.  Let me know your seat number, and I’ll make sure Trevor stops by to thank you for coming.”

“He might not want to since I’m rooting for The Mauler,” Vinny laughed as he showed Vandal his ticket.

“I’m SURE he will still thank you,” Vandal said as he walked off.

Immediately upon entering the locker room, Vandal went over to The Mauler.  The Mauler stood just 5’8” tall and weighed in at 190 pounds.  His body was best described as a dad bod, as he wasn’t sharply cut, but he was still strong and muscular.  Gay guys would call him a bear as he was covered with hair.

“Hey, Maul.  Choose the opposite corner from the one you were assigned.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Trust me.  You’ll be glad you did.”

Laughing, The Mauler said, “Trust you?  Fat chance in hell.  What do you think I am, a newbie jobber like your newest protege?  But since I really couldn’t give a shit what you got planned, I’ll do it.”  He then turned back towards his locker.

Vandal proceeded across the locker room, where Trevor was nervously waiting for his match to begin.  He knew that he was in for a rough time today, both from his opponent and the crowd.

Sk8ter looked up and said, “Vandal, you look like the cat who just swallowed a canary, and there is another one on the perch.”

In a voice too low for Trevor to hear, Vandal told Sk8ter and Rebel, “Oh, the day got so much better for us.  Not for Trevor.”

“Why’s that?” Rebel inquired.

“You shall have to just wait and see,” was the mysterious reply.

Trevor exited through the curtain after his name was called.  He stood at 6’3” and weighed in at 235 pounds of very muscular, sharply defined muscle from a recent bulk and cut.  Following behind him were the Punksters and their manager.  The Punksters were similar in height and dressed much like Vandal.  Mainly, the crowd cheered, but some boos and cat whistles started as soon as everyone realized what he was wearing.  He had a flesh colored ‘robe’ with the sleeves cut off and fringe hanging from the sleeve edges as well as from the bottom of the garment, which came to just above mid-thigh.  He was wearing white knee pads and regulation white wrestling boots.

The impressive muscles of his arms and legs were also highlighted.  At first, the crowd knew something was off but couldn’t grasp it, until they realized that he had shaved his body hair – well, some of it at least.  One arm had hair on the front but not the back; the other arm had hair on the back but not the front.  The same pattern was repeated on the legs.  The wrestler looked ridiculous, and he knew it.  Trevor kept his eyes on the ref in the ring and tried to ignore the many jeers from the crowd as he walked toward the ring, but his body responded by turning red.

Once at the ringside, he used the stairs to climb to the ring apron and entered between the first and second ropes carefully.  He walked to the center of the ring, where the ref and his opponent were waiting.

“Nice outfit,” the ref said with obvious scorn.

“Absolutely.  Did you borrow it from yo mamma?” The Mauler asked with mirth.

“Fuck off, both of you,” Trevor said in a low voice.

The Mauler just laughed as the ref said, “Not a good idea to insult the man who is going to keep this one in check,”  while pointing at The Mauler. The Mauler was dressed in his signature black singlet.

“Sorry, Sir,” Trevor replied.  The sir slipped out without thinking, but both The Mauler and the ref noted it.  The ref went over the instructions and then sent each wrestler back to his corner.

Trevor backed over to his corner, keeping an eye on The Mauler.  Then he made the rookie mistake of turning toward the ring attendant as he unleashed his robe and began to remove it.  The Mauler took his opportunity, charged across the ring, and leaped up, delivering a drop kick into Trevor’s upper back, slamming him chest-first into the turnbuckle.  As The Mauler resumed his feet, he grabbed the belt of the robe from the back and yanked it free.

He quickly wrapped the sash around Trevor’s throat and pulled it tight.  As he did so, he pulled Trevor out into the ring and turned him inward.  A loud gasp went up from the audience along with a “What the fuck” from the ref when everyone saw what Trevor was wearing – or maybe not wearing.  He had on a pair of Speedos that were probably two sizes too small and extremely brief.  The waistband barely covered the root of his cock.  Everyone could see his pubic hair – at least on one side, where he still had it.  The blue trunks had a red stripe that formed an X, and directly beneath the X were his tightly packed balls.  His cock lay to the side and was very visible due to the tightness of the Speedo.  In fact, you could see where the shaft and the head met.  The audience and the ref could also now see that his chest and abdomen were also shaved in a checkered pattern.

A loud roar of laughter rose from the audience and the ref, then the jeering intensified. Of course, The Mauler couldn’t see anything, so he was a little confused.  The ref finally got it together enough to demand that The Mauler release the choke before he disqualified him.

“Can’t disqualify me as the match hasn’t started,” he gloated.

“It is an illegal hold, so break it,” the ref demanded again.

“Nope, there was no bell, so no match, no illegal hold,” was the reply.  Trevor’s face was starting to turn deeper red as he struggled to release the choke.  He slowly sank to his knees, still desperately trying to pry the sash free.

Outside the ring, Vandal was introducing Punk and Sk8ter to his newest friend, Vinny.  Both Punk and Sk8ter noticed the growing bulge in Vandal’s pants. Both had to acknowledge Vinny was sexy as fuck.  The four turned their attention to the ring where Trevor was in deep trouble.

“I fucking KNEW I was going to like this match,” Vinny said.

In the ring, the ref looked over at the ring attendant to ring the bell, but he delayed for a couple of seconds before doing so.

“Now the bell has rung, so drop the hold.”

“Make me.”

The ref then began his 5-count.  At the count of four, The Mauler released the sash, threw his hands in the air to show that he had, before he reached down, grabbed the robe at each shoulder, and yanked it downward.  As he did so, Trevor’s arms also had to go down, giving The Mauler time to step in front of him and drive a knee into the forehead, knocking him backward to the mat.

“Holy mother,” The Mauler laughed when he finally saw the outfit Trevor was wrestling in, but didn’t stop his assault with two stomps to the abs.  He grabbed Trevor by the hair and pulled him up to his feet.  He pulled the robe the rest of the way off Trevor’s arms and threw it over the top rope.  He grabbed a wrist and threw Trevor across the ring, where he impacted back-first into the turnbuckle.  The sash was still lightly around his throat.

When he hit the turnbuckle, both of Trevor’s arms flew over the top ropes, and he sagged down, the front of his body fully exposed.  The unusual body shave was now fully evident, and the ref and The Mauler both shook their head in derision.  Trevor didn’t have time to think about this as The Mauler's shoulder plowed into his muscular six-pack.  He still hadn’t fully recovered from the beating the Punksters had given him, so he felt the blow more than he normally would have. The Mauler continued to plow shoulder after shoulder into the abs until the ref’s count reached 4 ½.  He then backed out of the corner, and Trevor slid all the way down to the mat.

As soon as Trevor’s ass hit the ring floor, The Mauler stepped back in, placed his foot across his throat, and pushed.  Trevor began coughing and struggling.

“Break the choke, break the damned choke,” the ref screamed at The Mauler, who ignored him until the ref started counting and hit four.  The Mauler backed away from the corner.  The ref turned to berate him, but The Mauler only smiled as he dropped to his back and rolled under the ring apron and dropped to the ring floor.  He quickly went around to the corner where he grabbed the edges of Trevor’s robe sash, yanked them behind the turnbuckle pad, and quickly knotted them, putting Trevor into another choke hold.

The Mauler quickly backed away so that the ref couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t help release Trevor from the choke.  The ref dropped to is knees and began trying to unknot the sash.  The Mauler rolled back into the ring, grabbed Trevor by the feet, and pulled outward, increasing the pressure on his neck and the choke.  Once again, the ref had to start a count to get him to break the hold.  Trevor’s face was turning a dark color, but when The Mauler dropped his feet, the pressure was released enough for him to gasp in some air, but it was still restricted.

Realizing that he needed to untie the knot, the ref slid out of the ring onto the floor and began working the knot.  The Mauler strode into the ring corner and began slamming kicks into the pecs and abs of his opponent.  The ref had no choice but to ignore The Mauler if he had any hope of getting the sash from around his neck.  He finally managed to untie the knot and unwrap the rope cord from Trevor’s neck.  Trevor attempted to take in a deep breath, but every time he did, The Mauler drove another stomp into the abs.

The ref began climbing back into the ring while screaming at The Mauler to back off.  Just as the ref cleared the ropes and got back into the ring, The Mauler drove a football kick directly at the red X deep into the groin of Trevor, eliciting a loud “eeck” sound as Trevor’s hands flew to his crotch and he fell to his side into the fetal position.  Unfortunately, the ref had re-entered the ring in such a way that he was looking away from the action when the foot slammed into the balls, so he did not see it.

Hearing Trevor and seeing him curl into the fetal position, he had no doubt what had occurred, but he had not seen it.  Nonetheless, he began screaming as The Mauler backed him into the middle of the ring, threatening him with all sorts of mayhem.  The Mauler laughed as he could have sworn he saw the ref wink at him – but that couldn’t be the case, could it?

The Mauler walked around the ref to the ring corner, bent over, and grabbed Trevor by his hair and hauled him, with some difficulty, to his feet.  Once he had him standing, he used his large hands to lock on a pec claw on each side of his opponent’s chest, making sure that he dug his fingers deep into each peck from the side.  He then demonstrated his tremendous strength by lifting Trevor off his feet with his pec muscles.  Trevor screamed at the intense pain that shot through his chest.

The Mauler laughed as he stepped back into the ring and began shaking Trevor back and forth, eliciting further moans and gasps, before he twisted and threw Trevor into the nearest turnbuckle.  He immediately followed up and delivered a mighty chest chop across the well-developed pecs of his opponent.  He followed this up with another and another.  The crowd began to count, and on 20, The Mauler delivered the hardest blow of all, causing Trevor to gasp and stumble out of the corner, his chest reddened and obviously sore.  The Mauler wasted no time in following him into the ring, trapping his head under his arm and dropping to the mat in a DDT.  The entire ring shook when the two wrestlers hit the mat.

The Mauler regained his feet and pushed Trevor over to his back.  His pecs were reddened from their abuse, and you could see the indentation where The Mauler’s fingers had been.  The Mauler began raining a series of stomps down on the pecs like he was putting out a fire or trying to flatten them.  Eventually, Trevor managed to roll under the bottom ring rope and drop down to the arena floor.  Vandal and the Punksters headed in his direction while yelling about what a “shitty” job he was doing and what a “disgrace” he was to the name of wrestling.

The Mauler hopped onto the second rope in the ring corner, facing the audience, and threw his hands up into a victory pose.  The crowd largely booed, but there were a fair number of cheers as well.

“Maul him, The Mauler. Destroy him,” Vinny yelled from his position in the front row.  Both his hands grabbed the barrier in front of him, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs.  The Mauler smiled as he looked down at Vinny and gave him a salute with a finger.  He turned and saw the Punksters had helped Trevor to his feet, each holding one of his arms.  He quickly stepped over the top rope, dropped to the ring apron, and jumped off, slamming both feet into Trevor’s pecs.  Trevor actually saw him coming, but being held by the Punskters, could not get out of the way.  The Punksters released their grips just as The Mauler’s feet slammed into his pecs, driving him backward and downward, where he slammed into the arena floor.  The air “whooshed” out of him in a loud manner.

The Punksters gave a very poor performance of shock and contrition over their role in Trevor being slammed to the floor.  No one bought their act.  Vinny cheered his approval as Trevor landed directly in front of him.

“Take that, you fucking loser,” Vinny screamed as spittle flew out of his mouth, landing on Trevor.  The Mauler gave him a high five as he grabbed Trevor by the hair and wrenched him to his feet. The Punksters stood off to the side, blocking security's view.

“Give him a chop,” The Mauler encouraged when he realized they were invisible to the powers that be.  Vinny pulled back and gave him a full-throttle chop across the already abused pecs, staggering him backward, where he ran in Vandal. 

“Get the fuck off me,” Vandal yelled as he pushed Trevor away, where he was met with a clothesline from Vinny, sending Trevor back to the floor.  At this point, The Mauler pulled Trevor to his feet by his arm, slung him around, and drove him pecs-first into the corner ring post.  While all this was going on, the ref was doing a slow ten count, so he was only up to seven, when The Mauler threw Trevor back into the ring, breaking the count.

The Mauler lept onto the ring apron and then to the top rope before he did a 360, slamming down into Trevor’s pecs and abs.  Fans could see spittle flying from Trevor’s mouth at the same time he let out a loud “oomph” before collapsing back down onto the mat.

The Mauler jumped to his feet, struck a victory pose for the crowd, before grabbing Trevor by the ankle, pulling him to the middle of the ring, and flipping him over.  He straddled his opponent, dropped his ass onto the lower back before bending both legs at the knee and locking the ankles under his pits. He squatted as he pulled up, trapping Trevor in a perfect Boston Crab.  Trevor screamed.

“Ask him if he wants to quit like the pussy he is,” The Mauler demanded.

As soon as the ref approached Trevor’s head, The Mauler drove the edge of his hand into Trevor’s balls, slicing them hard.  Again, Trevor screamed.  The Mauler repeated the move before the ref could get back.

“Did you hit him in the balls?” the ref asked.

“NO!” a large portion of the crowd yelled at once.

“Guess I didn’t,” The Mauler laughed.  The ref managed to keep the smirk off his face, but just barely. The Mauler dropped the hold and let Trevor fall to the mat.  He delivered a series of stomps to the lower back before pulling Trevor to his feet.  Placing his head behind his opponent’s head, The Mauler charged him across the ring and tossed him over the top rope.

Trevor flew over the top rope and landed on the thin mats around the ring.  The Mauler followed him out of the ring, grabbed a handful of hair, pulled him to his feet, and ran him abs first into the metal barrier separating the audience from the action.  Trevor remained bent over the railing, his abs screaming in pain.  The ref, who had exited the ring, got in front of The Mauler and pushed him back toward the ring.

Vandal grabbed Trevor by the trunks and pulled him back across the barrier until his throat was across it.  He released the trunks and began pushing down on the head, choking Trevor.  The crowd booed, although there were some cheers, as they watched Trevor’s backup join The Mauler in his beatdown.  Vandal signaled to Vinny, who Trevor had landed in front of, to step up and lock Trevor’s head between his thighs and push downward.  The Punskters' manager was getting the sexy man back into the action.

Vandal had Vinny grab both of Trevor's wrists and pull upward, causing Trevor to stand a little taller, increasing the pressure on his throat.  It also left his abs wide open, and Sk8ter and Rebel began driving in a series of kicks.  Each kick lifted Trevor off the ground, placing all his weight on his trapped throat.

Seeing the ref start to turn around, Vandal and the Punksters stepped backward. Vinny dropped the wrists, released the head, and stepped back toward his seat.  He exchanged a fist bump with Vandal and Rebel.  Trevor dropped to the floor, taking deep, gasping breaths as he tried to get air into his lungs.  His hands rubbed across his abused abs. 

The ref walked over and began a 10-count.  Sk8ter and Rebel “helped” a struggling Trevor to his feet, turned him toward the ring, and fast walked him into the edge of the ring, making sure his abs felt the blow.

“Oh, oops, sorry, Trev,” Sk8ter said.  The smirk on his face showed he wasn’t sorry at all.  They pulled Trevor back from the edge and guided him under the bottom rope and back into the ring, where The Mauler dragged him to his feet, crotch lifted him, and delivered a body slam.

The Mauler dropped down so that he lay partially across Trevor’s upper chest.  He was using his right arm to hold himself up as he raised his left in victory.  The ref dropped down to Trevor’s head and began his count.

“One,” he intoned as his palm impacted the mat.

“Two,” he continued as he dropped his palm for the second time.

“Th…”, he started, but Trevor reflexively rolled his shoulder off the mat, breaking the count.

When The Mauler didn’t near the word three, he glared at the ref.

“Sorry, The Mauler.  He raised his shoulder.”

The Mauler grinned as he replied, “That’s okay.  Just more time to beat on him.”  The ref shuttered at the tone of The Mauler’s voice.

The Mauler hauled himself to his feet and rolled Trevor up onto his shoulders.  He placed Trevor’s leg on each side of his head, grabbed Trevor by his sides, and, in a display of remarkable strength, hoisted his opponent off the mat and up until Trevor was sitting on his shoulders.  He partially turned before power-bombing Trevor back to the mat, with sweat flying everywhere from the force of the impact.  He laughed as he rolled Trevor up onto his shoulders.  At the two count, The Mauler fell to the left, pulling Trevor’s shoulder off the mat.

“Oh, no, he threw me off,” The Mauler mocked as he laughed.  He quickly climbed to the top rope and repeated his earlier 360 flip, slamming down onto a prone Trevor.  He, again, lay across the chest for the count.  After the two-count, The Mauler pulled Trevor’s head and shoulder off the mat.  The crowd booed this display of poor sportsmanship.  Well, most of the crowd.  Vinny was cheering at Trevor’s “refusal to surrender”.  Vandal and the Punksters were just laughing.

The Mauler once again regained his feet and pulled Trevor to his feet.  It was time for the coup de grace.

Trevor slammed back-first into the turnbuckle and slumped down.  The force of the blow threw both arms over the top rope, so he was wide open.  The Mauler started in the opposite corner and charged over, getting ready to do a front splash onto a wide open and hurting Trevor.

Suddenly, Trevor tensed both his arms along the top rope and threw his right leg straight up.  The Mauler ran full steam, balls first, into the raised leg.  A loud oomph could be heard as he came to a dead stop.  His hands dropped to his crotch, and his mouth opened into an ‘O.  Trevor tensed his arms again, pulled both thighs up toward his chest, and pushed out with both feet, one striking The Mauler in the upper chest, the other striking him in the face.  The force of the blows threw him back, where he slammed onto the mat with the back of his head sustaining most of the impact, followed by his back. The force of the landing was so great that he actually bounced partially back up.  He began gasping like an out-of-water fish trying to get air back into his lungs and shake away the cobwebs.

The ref admonished Trevor for the low blow, but he ignored him.  He staggered out of the corner, barely managing to stay on his feet, and began delivering several stomps into the abs before dropping down with a knee drop right in the middle of the stomach.  His timing was impeccable, and his knee struck just as The Mauler was exhaling.  The result was the almost complete emptying of The Mauler’s lungs.

Trevor quickly straddled The Mauler, dropped his ass on his face, and used his knees to trap his arms at the side.  Trevor began raining a series of fists deep into the abs and the solar plexus, ignoring the ref’s admonition to stop. He was going to take every second of the ref’s count.  Trevor timed his punches so that every time The Mauler attempted to inhale, a punch landed, driving it out of him.  Just as the ref’s count hit three, The Mauler suddenly went limp as Trevor’s punches had deprived him of oxygen. Trevor delivered several more punches before groggily standing up at the count between four and five.

“When I tell you to stop, I mean for you to stop,” the ref screamed in Trevor’s face.

“Fuck off, asshole, and just check him,” Trevor responded even as he staggered and struggled for breath.

Reluctantly, the ref bent over and raised The Mauler’s arm three times, and each time it dropped back to the mat without resistance.  The Mauler was out.  The crowd released a loud gasp of disbelief as the arm hit the mat for the third time.  The ref signaled for the bell and raised Trevor’s arm to indicate him as the winner.  Trevor jerked his arm free and dropped over The Mauler’s chest and demanded that the ref count to three.  He wanted there to be no doubt who had won.  The ref complied.

Trevor jumped on the middle rope in the corner, raised his hands, and shot the crowd a double middle finger.  The crowd was stunned and remained quiet until a chorus of cheers finally erupted.  The fickle crowd was cheering the strange jobber before them. 

With Trevor standing on the corner ropes and stretching out, his cock and balls were well exposed through the too-small trunks.  They were impressive, and there were several obscene remarks shouted at times.

“Shit! Who the fuck expected that?” Vandal said, his mouth gaping open as well.

At about the same time, Sk8ter goes, “What in the motherfucking hell?” while Rebel says, “Didn’t see that coming.”

Trevor dropped to the ring floor and rolled under the bottom rope, and came out where The Punksters and Vandal were standing.  He shot them an evil look and tried to walk past them, without saying a word, to return to the locker room, but Sk8ter grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him back.

“Not so fast, asshole.  Have you forgotten your manners?” he yelled as he pulled him over toward the crowd.  He stopped when they were standing in front of Vinny, who was on his feet with a stunned look on his face.

“You forgot to thank Vinny, here.”

“Thank him for what?” Trevor asked with a shaky voice. He was feeling the effects of the match in his entire body. 

“For the assist he gave during the match,” Rebel said.

“Assist, the asshole attacked me,” Trevor groaned.

Rebel slapped him in the back of the head and demanded, “Show a little respect and thank him.”

Trevor wanted to argue, but seeing the look on Rebel’s face, decided to take the easy way out.  “Thank you for your assistance….Sir,” he said reluctantly.

Vinny reached out, and Trevor flinched as he gently tapped him on the cheek.  “That didn’t feel very grateful,” he said.

“You are right.  He can do better,” Vandal interjected as he leaned over and whispered in Trevor’s ear.

A look of horror came over his face as he said, “I can’t do that.”

Both Sk8ter and Rebel laughed as they said, “Sure, you can.”

Trevor wanted to object and tell them all to fuck off, but he knew he couldn’t stand an attack by one, much less three or four of them.  Plus, he really wanted to keep them happy.  He knew they couldn’t be too pleased that he won this match.

The entire audience gasped as Trevor took a deep sigh, dropped to his knees, bent over, and kissed both of Vinny’s boots as he said, loud enough to be heard, “Thank you for your assistance, Sir.”

A roar of surprise and disgust went up from most of the crowd.  Trevor confused the hell out of them.  While many saw him as a likeable jobber, his actions led them to doubt that view.  While the smiles on the faces of Rebel, Sk8ter, and Vandal couldn’t be missed, most did miss Vandal reaching down to readjust his package to a more comfortable position.

“You’re more than welcome, Trev Boy.  Anytime you need my help, let me know,”  he laughed as he bent over and patted him on the head like a lost puppy.

Trevor rose from the ground, his face beet red, and started to turn away when Vinny reached out, grabbed a handful of hair, and forced Trevor’s face into his armpit, where he moved it up and down.  The Punskters and the crowd laughed as Trevor pulled free.  When he did, he had a look of revulsion on his face.  Embarrassed, he turned and walked up the aisle toward the locker room. He ignored the crowd, even those few who were trying to give him a high five. 

Sk8ter leaned closer to Vinny and said, “Head back to the locker room, and Trevor will show you his true gratitude.”  He winked as he said the last.

Vinny wasted no time in exiting the row and turning to the back of the arena.   When he reached the door leading backstage, normally off limits to the crowd, the attendant gave him a fist bump and said, “They are awaiting your arrival.”  He had a large smirk on his face.

The Punksters walked in while Trevor was sitting on the bench, leaning back against the locker.  While he had won the match, he had taken a very rough beating, and he still hadn’t recovered from his original loss to the duo.  Rebel and Sk8ter walked over to him, and Sk8ter commanded, “Kneel.”

With no effort at resistance, Trevor slid off the bench to his knees, where the Punksters took their trademark stance: legs spread, arms across the chest, and a sneer on their face.  Trevor assumed the place between their legs, wrapped his arms around their thighs, and stared straight ahead.  Vandal noticed that Trevor’s cockhead had appeared above his tiny Speedos.  He smiled as he took the usual picture.

About that time, the ref and another wrestler were helping The Mauler into the locker room and placed him on the bench in front of his locker.

Vandal walked over.  “That was pretty fucking pathetic.  You allowed this no-good piece of shit pretend man to beat you.  How embarrassing that must be.”

“Fuck you,” The Mauler screamed as he stood up.  Vandal responded by slamming his knee up between The Mauler’s thighs, nailing the abused nuts.  The Mauler screamed, cupping his nuts and slowly sank to the floor.

“Find yourself a partner, cause the Punksters are going to take you apart in the ring,” he yelled.  He slapped The Mauler in the face and walked away.  As he did so, he winked at his tag team.  He figured that should motivate The Mauler and whoever he got as a partner, so the fans would see one hell of a tag team match.

The ref walked over to where Trevor was kneeling.  “A little impressive.  An illegal move, kicking a man in the balls…” he started.

“I didn’t kick him in the balls.  His balls ran into my foot,” Trevor said forcibly while still kneeling on the floor.

“Fair point, and the reason I didn’t disqualify your ass.  Still, for most of the match, he kicked your pansy ass all over the ring.”  In all fairness to the ref, he had called the match pretty evenly.  Of course, The Mauler got away with his usual illegal bag of tricks, but the ref had not deliberately ignored anything.

Trevor blushed at that as he knew it was true.

“And we know how excited that gets me,” the ref said as he palmed his crotch and obviously hard dick.  “But my girl’s around to take care of it for me tonight.”

“Aww, but that would break the tradition of pussyboy here doing it for you,” Vandal whined.  Trevor shot Vandal a look of surprise.

“Well, if you guys insist,” the ref said as he started undoing his pants.

“Oh, it is not us.  But look at Trevor’s hard cock.  He would be so disappointed if he didn’t get to thank you properly.”

Trevor blushed, but as soon as the ref’s cock was free, he opened his mouth and leaned forward.  Just like last time, the ref grabbed hold of both sides of his head and proceeded to skull fuck him until he blasted a large load of cum over his face and chest.

As soon as the spitting had finished, Trevor leaned over, unprompted, and kissed both of the ref’s boots.  “Thank you for officiating such a clean bout, Sir.”  Vandal and the Punksters exchanged a look of satisfaction.  Trevor’s training was starting to take hold.

The ref smiled as he buttoned up and exited the locker room.  “He is already for you,” the ref smirked as Vinny entered the room.

“What the fuck?” The Mauler said, watching the scene unfold as he slowly struggled back to his feet.

“This is what you allowed to defeat you, A pussy assed cocksucker.  What an embarrassment,” Vandal said. Trevor reddened even more from the accurate insult as cum dripped from his face.

The Mauler growled, grabbed his gym bag from the locker, and limped out of the room still dressed in his wrestling attire.  He knew just who he was going to get for his partner.  They were going to destroy the Punksters and their manager, not to mention the pussyboy.

“Lose the trunks,” Rebel demanded.

Trevor peeled the Speedos off with some difficulty, given their small size and the fact that he was still wearing his knee pads and wrestling boots.  His cock stood rock hard, pointing straight up his stomach. He used the Speedos to wipe his face, then folded them and placed them on the bench behind him.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Sk8ter said to Vinny, motioning with a come here sign.  “Trevor here has places to be, so we need to get this over with.”  Trevor blanched as he heard these words.

Once Vinny was in range, Trevor, knowing what was expected,  reached up, grabbed his jeans, and quickly unbuttoned them and pulled the zipper down.  He reached in and pulled out a rapidly thickening and hardening cock.  In no time at all, he had engulfed the entire length and began sucking.  He grabbed Vinny by the hands, pulled them up, and clasped them on either side of his head.  Vinny knew precisely what was happening, grabbed hold, and began a vicious skull fuck.

The Punks laughed at Trevor’s apparent eagerness.  In reality, he hated this and just wanted to get it over with.  At least that is what he told himself.

Vinny was brought to an explosion very quickly. Trevor knew what he was doing.  Vinny started to pull out as he ejaculated so that he could mark Trevor, but Trevor didn’t want to go through that again, so he reached behind Vinny, grabbed both ass cheeks, and yanked forward, burying Vinny’s cock deep in his throat so every spasm went down his esophagus.

When Trevor released his hold on Vinny’s ass, and Vinny pulled out, his cock had already started to deflate, and while wet with spit, there was no evidence of cum.  Trevor had done what was needed to try to maintain some respect.

Vandal slapped Vinny on the ass and gave a little squeeze.  Just as he imagined, it was rock hard.  “Good job, man.  We hope to see a lot more of you around here.”  Sk8ter and Rebel gave a thumbs up and a mischievous smile behind Vinny’s back.

“I’m sure of that,” Vinny smirked as he looked down at Trevor.  He reached over and rubbed Trevor’s hair.  “Good boy,” he said as if talking to a dog.  Trevor blushed.  Vinny turned and walked out of the locker room.

“That is one fine ass,” Sk8ter said.  “I think that he would make Trevor here a good tag team partner, not to mention a good companion, so that he doesn’t get lonely.”

Vandal and Rebel laughed.  “Probably require a bit of training though,” Rebel stated.

“Nothing the three of us couldn’t handle,” Vandal replied.  “Grab your shit, and let’s go,” Vandal demanded of Trevor.

Trevor followed in his usual outfit – naked except for knee pads and wrestling boots.  He knew better than to hide his hard-on.  His entire body turned red as he walked down the hall to the chuckles of the league employees.  As usual, a crowd was waiting as the wrestlers exited, even though several more bouts were on the card.  These people knew the real event was here.

Many were laughing at Trevor, while others didn’t know how to feel.  That is until Trevor dropped to his knees, unbidden, and began kissing shoes and thanking fans for coming.  Then the jeers and laughter began.  The Punks looked at each other, shook their heads, and laughed.  Trevor’s training was going better than they expected.

Trevor was then made to crawl across the parking lot and get into the back of Vandal’s truck, while the Punksters got up front.  Tonight, they intended to head to Madisons, a notorious gay nightclub where they could have some fun with Trevor.  Although Trevor claimed to hate the action, his body told a different story.