Sunday, March 15, 2015

AWL: The Trials of Colt Hill 2 (Part 1)

The Dark Days of 1983

My name is Colt Hill and I'm a pro wrestler for the American Wrestling League. 1983 has not been a great year for me so far. It's been hard for me to experience a complete lack of respect for the first time in my life. When you're 22 years old, 6'6", 290-lbs of solid muscle and look like a younger Tom Selleck, you're used to getting your way. It's not like I don't work hard, I do. And I've had setbacks in my life. But one thing I have always known, since I was a teenage football star, is that everyone wants to be me and be with me. Now, I hear the rumors, whispers and even laughter at my expense backstage.

Me (Colt Hill)
As hard as that is, it's even harder to accept being a low mid-carder and a jobber to the 'stars', especially older, softer guys I tower over and outweigh by 60 pounds. It probably sounds ungrateful, but I started the year as a new main eventer - the top rookie in wrestling on the fast track to a belt, but now, I'm stuck as a mid-card face. I still get to beat up local jobbers on most TV shows, but I haven't had a meaningful win for four months. In the ring, when they need to make the new heel from Russia or South Africa or wherever seem like an unstoppable force, I'm now the one who loses to him and puts him over. And it works, because I'm still the biggest, most muscular guy in the promotion. When I sell their moves, the crowds believe these heels can defeat anyone. Fortunately, the crowds still cheer for me, but I wonder for how much longer. I've lost in big matches to three new heels already. How many more before no one takes me seriously?

So, all this began because earlier this year, I got into a situation with Andy Arlington, a top heel in the AWL. I spouted off, he didn't like it and one thing led to another. Andy crushed me in a private match, which resulted in my push to the top being stalled. There are a lot of rumors about what went down and none of them make me look good. Truth is, I was arrogant and both my career and my body ended up taking a beating. Andy kicked my ass and to keep my job and health, I am honoring a deal (one I stupidly initiated) to be demoted and even worse, to be "available" for Andy. Every so often, he is still collecting on my debt.

I've been hoping to be released, partly because of my diminished role, but mainly to get away from Andy. But it is clear I'm not being fired from the AWL. Vic Gagnon, the head booker, isn't that stupid. He knows I'm still a stud that draws crowds (who know nothing about what went on backstage) and sells posters and t-shirts. He says I need some "seasoning" (ie. punishment). Vic tells me he believes in me. He says that it was his fault that he pushed me too far too fast, but I know the truth. He is struggling to separate Colt Hill, the musclebound monster in the ring from Colt Hill, Andy's rumored fuck toy. It doesn't help that Andy is manipulating Vic, while I have to stay quiet.

A New Opportunity

Eventually, with my singles career going nowhere, I finally get a break. Vic wants attendance and ratings more than he wants to punish me. He calls me into his office and introduces me to Kirk Manning, son of Lanny Manning, a popular former wrestler in the AWL. Vic tells me Kirk is coming back to the AWL and we are now a tag team. At first, I nod, unsure of how to react, but I quickly realize that change is good. I smile, shake Kirk's hand, thank Vic for the opportunity and flatter Kirk. I tell him how great it is to work with someone as talented as he is. And I mean it all. I know that Kirk isn't going to be buried and Vic is promising us the tag belts within months. He wouldn't lie to a legacy wrestler like Kirk, would he?

My tag partner, Kirk Manning 
The more I study Kirk's face and body the more I realize that he is the perfect tag partner for me. He's got connections and knows how to work the business, which I clearly dont. Like me, he's a big young stud, standing 6'3" and 250-lbs. In fact, he's just six months older than me. In many ways, physically, he's my opposite, so we'll look good together. Kirk is good looking in a more All-American way. He has a fresh handsome face. I'm dark and hairy, he's smooth with curly blond hair, which always works (we're like wrestlings Dukes of Hazzard or CHiPs). Kirk definitely has a pretty good body. He works out and keeps a nice tan, although he is softer and less muscular than me.

We take off with the crowds immediately and settle into a familiar groove. Because of our stature and looks, Kirk is the one who gets isolated and suffers for most of the match, while I'm the power who watches helplessly from the corner then gets tagged in to save the day. After a number of great wins, neither of us have any complaints. I'm back to winning and Kirk has a great opportunity to get out of his father's shadow.

We're beloved by the crowds and quickly rise to be the feds leading faces, even though we're a tag team. I let Kirk deal with Vic and he pushes us to great success. We even get to beat Andy and his 'brother' Ollie, which I love. Outside the ring, we don't really hang out at all. I don't push it, because I'm sure he heard something about what happened with Andy. He hasn't said anything, but I'm not screwing this up by bringing up old garbage.

In the ring, we maintain our individual identities so we can eventually wrestle in singles. We both wear trunks in the ring, but I wear my white with the longhorns, while Kirk likes to wear bright colors, like orange, yellow or blue. I did buy some colorful knee and elbow pads to match his gear for TV matches, but that's as close as we get to looking like a true team.

By September, after only a few months together, Vic sits us down and tells us that we are going to win the tag belts from current champs Jamie Givens and Stan Royal in the last match of the TV taping for national cable. In some ways, it is a passing of the torch from an older version of Kirk and I. Givens is a classic, long-haired dark, hairy heel and Royal is a smooth, blond stud who specializes in slow, submission moves. In exchange for the belts and a renewed push, Vic tells me I need to be willing to re-up my contract. I don't sign immediately, telling him I'll sign when I've got the belt.

I still can't quite believe it. I don't get my hopes up - I mean winning the belts this soon, at home, main event, on TV and a big new contract? I don't know if Andy or someone else will get the word and kill the deal. However, as the match approaches, we don't hear any changes or re-directions. I'm getting so excited, it's showing in my trunks. I decide to wear two jocks under two pair of trunks during the match, trying to control my semi-hard on that still won't go down. It's not like guys don't ever wrestle hard, it happens, but it's my biggest moment on TV and not too many guys have a cock like mine.

After 15 minutes of back and forth, including me taking some punishment for once, Kirk gets the pin on Givens, while I fight with the Royal outside the ring. I would have rather it was the other way around, but I wasn't about to rock the boat. It is made official and I hear over the loud speaker, "YOUR WINNERS, AND NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, KIRK MANNING AND COLT HILL!" I leap into the ring and hug Kirk tightly.

As we accept the belts and have our arms raised, I have to fight back a tear. I feel like I'm back. I climb every corner and show off the belt to the admiring crowd. Flashbulbs pop, I smile and hoist the gold high in the air. I don't stop until Kirk finally taps me and brings me back to Earth. The crowd is dispersing, its time to head back to the locker room. I savor the last few cheers of die-hards who know nothing of the backstage drama. I hug Kirk again, put the belt over my shoulder and we head to the back. The last fans trickle out as we head behind the curtain. I know I was out there a long time, because when we enter the back, I see Givens and Royal walking out, already showered and bags packed.


When we finally get into the back, Vic is waiting. He stops me and says, "I did my part, now you do yours." Kirk and I follow Vic to his office. I sit down, but I dont sign immediately. I read it carefully to make sure it's the same deal I saw before. Fortunately, it is, so I sign the contract. Despite wanting out of AWL for months, wrestling is a small business and there arent too many opportunities like this one. It's actually nice to have some job security for once. Plus, the money he's offering is pretty sweet. I'll be one of the top paid guys in the business.

I say, "Thanks Vic, you won't regret this. I swear I'll help you take this place to the top. Look out WWL, 'cause here we come!"

Vic shakes my hand and says, "I'm counting on it, kid."

Kirk and I walk the long hallway to the face dressing room. By the time I'm done reading and signing the contract, the only people around are the clean-up crew, who are all jobbers - low card guys and local up-and-coming wrestlers trying to break into the business. They are congratulating us on the win. We're younger and less experienced than most of them, so I'm sure many are jealous. I don't want to rub it in, so I just pat the belt on my shoulder and nod thanks at them. When we get into the locker room, we're the only wrestlers inside. I toss the belt on the bench and immediately strip off my top trunks then my next pair then one of the jocks, pulling each of them carefully over my boots. As each layer comes off, I feel better, letting my cock finally stretch.

I say, "Man, that feels good. Shit, I just couldn't get this thing down." I turn to Kirk, "I can't believe we did it. You have no idea what this means to me. You were great out there." I notice for the first time that Kirk is excited, too, because his trunks are tenting under the gold belt around his waist.

I turn back to strip off my second jock and grab my shower gear. As I bend over, Kirk comes close and slaps my bare ass. I pull my jock back up and turn, a little confused. We slapped asses in football, but that was after a good play, not while a guy was undressing.

Kirk says, "Fuck I can't wait to fuck that ass. I've waited so fucking long. Don't shower, man. Just bend over the table there. I want you hot and sweaty."

"What the hell, dude?"

Kirk smirks. He says, "Don't play games, just shut up and bend over. I feel like celebrating and you're the only bitch I know in this town." He grabs below his title belt, adjusting his now bulging package and moves close.

I stop him, holding him at arms length, but he knocks my arm away. Kirk is clearly getting annoyed. He grabs my belt from the bench, points at it and says, "What the fuck, you pansy? You give it up for Arlington any time he asks, but not me? You owe me, asshole. I got us these belts. I saved your fucking career. Why the fuck do you think we teamed up? Because I asked for it. I know all about you. Now, for the last time, shut up, and bend over the bench. Im fucking you tonight, whether you like it or not."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. On my best night, things are still messed up. "Fuck no, man. I don't know what you heard, but --"

THWAK! Kirk slams my belt into my face, which also drives my head back into the metal lockers. I'm stunned and dazed as Kirk drives a hard fist into my gut then one across my temple. Okay now I'm totally staggered. I swing wildly, trying to fight back, but I completely whiff.

Next thing I know, another fist into my stomach then I'm flying across the room face first into the steel door. BAM! When I bounce off, Kirk grabs my hair and yells in my face, "You gonna suck my dick, pansy? You gonna bend over and take a real man's cock?"

I manage to say, "Fuck you!"

"Wrong answer!" Kirk sends me towards the door again, but just then, a young low carder who heard the commotion opens the door. I trip past him and fly into the hallway, crashing onto the concrete floor. I try to get up, but my head is still spinning. There are a few guys there, the crew packing up, but no one moves to help me.

I must have looked strange, bare-assed in my boots, pads and jock, scrambling to try and rise. Kirk is still fully dressed and wearing his belt around his waist. He comes out and grabs my hair. He says, "Got something to say?"

I don't respond, so he slams his boot into my temple and I almost black out. He grabs my ankle and drags my lifeless carcass across the concrete floor. Some of the jobbers are laughing at me, which if I was more aware, I'd be embarrassed about. No one is concerned that I might be dead or have a concussion or anything. Of course no one knows that Kirk cheapshotted me with my own belt or any of the other hits I've taken. All they see is a Kirk dishing out the pain. Fuck, I just need a minute, but Kirk in unrelenting.

Kirk drags me all the way to the entrance to the ring area and lets go of my boot. He slaps my face, which wakes me up. I'm bigger than Kirk, but he's not exactly small or weak. When he hits me, it hurts. He grabs my wrist and my hair, forcing me to my feet. Kirk spins us and slams me back first into the concrete wall. I bounce off into a boot to my lower abs and upper cut combination that sends me back against the wall.

I've got nothing. The wall is holding me up, otherwise I'd be back on the floor. Kirk puts his big hand around my throat, holding me tight. He asks, "Got something to say, yet?" All I can manage is to shake my head, so he drives his knee into my pouch! I hear groans from the guys watching. It actually wakes me up, but another fist to the side of my head drops me to the floor again.

To be continued ...

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