AWL: The Adventures of Danny Chase 1

The Side Hustle

My ring name is Daring Danny Chase, but you might know me as "That Guy Already in the Ring". I'm a pro wrestler for the American Wrestling League and have been for five years now. I had a good run for a bit, but now, when I actually make it on TV, the camera doesn't follow me down to the ring any more. I don't get any fancy entrance music. The announcers don't even acknowledge my existence until halfway through the match most of the time. I'm the face who just stands there waiting for the heel to come out. Then I get my ass kicked, mounting no offense other than ineffectual punches and a leap where I get caught, showing how strong the heel is. My Mom is so proud.

Daring Danny Chase (me)

Pro wrestling is my dream. I grew up watching every Saturday. My dad took my brother and me to watch local live shows. At 14, I worked it so I could start lifting weights after school at a gym that was home to a local wrestling fed. I spent time talking to the wrestlers and learning the moves. Everyone said I had natural talent. One time, when I was 16, the promoter was desperately trying to cover for a no-show. He put me in a mask, so no one would see I was just a kid, told me to listen to the ref for what to do and out I went as The Comet, from parts unknown. There were only 30 people there, but when they cheered me, I knew this was what I wanted. At 18, instead of going to college, I went into pro wrestling full-time.

When I originally signed with the AWL back in 1978, I thought I had it made. But now, it's 1983, I'm 25 and I feel lucky to get a chance to lose on television. I haven't been on the road much for a couple of years - there are guys all across the country who'll do what I do and don't expect travel money. I fill my time wrestling for rinky dink federations who pay $20 a show. I'm still a nobody while guys younger than me have belts. I can't even pay my bills with what I make as a wrestler, so I bartend during the week.

Why am I not more successful? I don't know. It's not because I'm ugly. The ladies cheer my boy next door face and smooth muscled body. It's not because I'm small. I'm 6'1", 220 lbs. I don't think it's because I'm not talented. I know my moves a lot better than muscleheads like Colt Hill or Nikolai Khruschev. But somehow they get ahead. I try to work the crowd. I've invested a lot of money (that I don't have) in real gear. I have trunks in purple, pink, yellow, orange, blue, lime green and zebra print. They all have a white star on the front and "Chase" written across the back in white. I have a white ring jacket to go with my white boots.

I have to be helped out a lot

It's frustrating.

So one day, I'm sitting outside the AWL gym/arena and Rex Taylor, one of the other low level faces, drives up in a new car - a Trans freaking Am. I can't believe it. I take the bus to the gym, because my car is so unreliable. I'm staring, so he comes over. Rex and I are good friends. We've been put together as a tag team before, because we both are attractive, fit and ring savvy.

Rex, a friend

Rex asks, "Why are you sitting out here?"

"Colt Hill is on the rampage. I guess something happened between him and Kirk last night after they won the belts. He decked a guy for just standing there. I figured I'd stay out of the way."

"Good plan, I'll wait with you."

After another minute of small talk, I ask Rex about the car. He tells me that he's been wrestling for another group, the Men's Wrestling Alliance, on the side. I've never heard of it. Rex explains that it's very hush hush. No TV, but the pay is good and he's treated well. Of course I'm curious - what kind of Indy fed pays enough to buy a car? Swearing me to secrecy, Rex explains the deal.

The MWA holds pay-per-match private shows every Saturday afternoon. There are two rings going at the same time, plus a lounge where wrestlers and fans mingle. Fans choose where they want to go, only paying when they enter the ring area to watch. Rex makes money in two ways. First, he gets a share of the gate for his matches. The more fans, the more cash. The matches are competitive with a ten minute minimum and a thirty minute maximum. If you beat a guy too fast, you need to keep going. But, he gives me a tip - you never want the match to go too fast. It's all about entertainment. People won't pay to see you if all your matches only go the minimum.

But the second, more lucrative way you make money is contributions from fans. The clientele appreciate the work the wrestlers put into their bodies and training. They want the wrestlers to be able to keep entertaining them. This is how Rex gets a car. A local car dealer sees him wrestle for months. Rex hangs out in the lounge and talks to him. Boom, he gets a car.

As Rex explains, I stop him. I've been around long enough to ask, "Just wrestling and talking to this guy got you a car?"

Rex says, "Yeah. I mean, I admit that he touches me while we're talking, but they aren't selling us for sex, if that is what you're worried about. Wrestlers and fans are barred from interacting outside the lounge. These are just rich guys who appreciate watching and being around good looking muscular guys, while they're supposed to be at their fancy 'men's club'. I figure guys are always touching me in the ring, so what's the difference?"

I'm relieved. Rex continues, "Now listen to me, Danny, it IS possible for you to go home completely empty handed. If the fans don't want to watch you then there’s no gate and no contributions. If you don't make money, they cut you. That won't be a problem for you, at first, but always remember, you only make money if you have an audience. You gotta work the crowd."

Rex says, "But they love us real pro wrestlers. And they love us jobbers. We're their fantasy and we're rare. I'm the only guy there who has ever been on TV. Most of the guys who wrestle are bodybuilders and strippers. They're ripped, with amazing bodies, but they're not us. They're a dime a dozen to these rich guys. When the crowd saw me the first time, I had a packed house. They asked me to wrestle again the same day and I filled that room, too."

I'm definitely interested. Rex says, "And I need to tell you, some guys have asked me about you. You'll be a huge hit, trust me. Just check it out. Have one match and see if it's for you."

The Men's Club

I arrive around 12pm, the sun is high and it's hot and humid. I pull up to the back, just like Rex said. My car makes it, barely. I'm only wearing tight cutoff jeans, but I'm still sweating. The curse of vinyl seats and no air conditioning. Rex pulls up in his Trans Am and meets me. I start to throw on a shirt to go inside this fancy club, but he stops me.

Arriving at the MWA

Rex points up and I see a row of men watching the parking lot out of the windows. Rex says, "Our fans like to watch us arrive."

Instinctively, I smile and wave. Many of them wave back enthusiastically. Rex says, "Way to go. You're a natural, Chase. A natural."

Before My Debut

A guy inside tells me everything Rex told me, but emphasizes that discretion is key. This is a club for rich, prominent men to interact with young attractive men. I don't have to sign anything, except for a non-disclosure agreement. It turns out that they asked Rex to talk to me, because they saw my potential. Before the matches start, they tell me to get changed and send me into the lounge to work the room. At Rex's suggestion, I'm wearing my pink trunks with the white star on the front and Chase written on the back, unzipped white ring jacket and white patent leather boots. Rex told me to skip the jock, so I'm going commando under my trunks. I open the door from the locker room and immediately heads turn. When I walk in, I get applause. I'm surprised, but energized. I nod nervously.

I look for Rex, but he's not there. I see other wrestlers milling about. They're easy to spot, because they're all nearly naked, wearing thongs, posing pouches, speedos with low cut boots and even sneakers. They're all fit and most are more ripped than me, but I'm the only one in real ring gear. Some smile, others sneer, most ignore me.

Men are patting my back and telling me they can't wait to see me wrestle. For the next hour, men are practically lining up to talk to me. I feel good, I mean these guys are real fans. They tell me their favorite gear and matches of mine, argue about who squashed me the best and generally build my ego sky high. I remove my jacket and the attention grows. I smile and nod, pumped by the attention. A 60-something man approaches me and grabs my arm. He squeezes my relaxed bicep and tells me to flex it. I do it and he giggles with glee.

I'm actually having a blast. I love talking to these guys about me, but it's almost time for my match. I tell them not to be too hard on me, it's my first time. They laugh and actually run for the door to get a good seat.

I head backstage, relaxed. I do some stretches and think about some of my best moves. This is competitive, so I think about my best submission holds. I'm ushered to the ring entrance. Rex is waiting for me, wishing me luck. He starts to give me advice on my opponent, but I tell him, "It’s cool, I've got this." Of course, I couldn't have been more wrong.

The 30-Minute Workout

I head out to resounding applause. I see my opponent. His name is Coal, because he's black and rock hard. He's definitely a bodybuilder, muscular and ripped. He's shorter than me, 5'11", but outweighs me at 250-lbs of muscle with about 2 ounces of body fat. Shit, probably the best body I've ever seen up close before. He's wearing a tiny white posing thong that pops against his dark, ebon skin, black pro-style boots and a Superman necklace. You can't help but look at his pouch and see that he's packing a huge cock and balls in there. I wonder if he has stuffed it. I mean, is it possible to be THAT big?

Coal, my opponent

The bell rings and we move into the center of the ring. Coal flexes for the crowd. They applaud wildly. He turns back to me. The crowd starts yelling for me to flex. I raise my arms and flex. Technically, my body is nothing compared to this shredded beast, but this isn't a bodybuilding competition. The crowd goes even wilder for me. They start chanting "Chase". I can tell Coal is pissed.

I see Coal has the body, but I don't know if he has any skill. If I'm going to win, it'll have to be experience. I'm not going to overpower this muscle stud.

1 minute. Our posing and showmanship is over. Now it's time to get to business. We circle each other, but we move in quickly. I was told that the crowd has no patience for sizing each other up. They're paying for this match specifically, so it needs to be good. When Coal reaches out for a traditional collar and elbow lock up, I duck, moving behind him. I lift him up and take him down to the mat. I grab his right arm and plant my weight on his shoulder. Coal goes down to the mat, as I force the Armbar up and back. I apply the pressure, knowing I need to weaken the muscle man.

Coal uses his strength to power us to our feet. I use the Armbar to push him into the ropes. I whip him across the ring. When he comes back at me, I take him down again with a Drop Toehold. When Coal falls forward, I go back to punishing his right shoulder. Again he pushes up. I slam a couple of forearms into his shoulder, staggering him. I then reach around his neck and drag him back in a Russian Leg Sweep. He slams back to the canvas. I scissor his arm in another Armbar, my boots across his massive chest. I apply the pressure. Coal slaps the mat in frustration. I know he's not submitting, yet, because it's too early. Still it's a great sign.

I'm showing these fans another side of Danny Chase. I hear clapping every so often and some cheers as I apply hold after hold. I'm working Coal, wearing him out. The big bodybuilder mounts no offense and no counters to my moves. I feel sorry for him as I work on his shoulder repeatedly. I pull him to his feet and whip him into the ropes again. This time I launch myself, slamming my shoulder into his. He falls to the mat and I'm on top of him again, pressing my advantage.

I start to hear cheers for my opponent. I know that the crowd wants him to do something and this match to last, but I'm the fan favorite. Time to remind them. Coal is face down on the mat and I have the dreaded Chicken Wing applied. I roll forward and turn it into a Bridged version, with my hips thrust into the air. The crowd approves seeing my elevated pouch, as I knew they would. I hold long enough for them to get a great view then release the hold and decide the shoulder has had enough. I decide to work on his back for a while.

I've been dominating the muscle man, showing the crowd that I'm a real wrestler, not just some cute jobber. This is easier than I thought it would be. Rex did say that a lot of the guys didn't know wrestling. I chalk Coal up in that category. I know I'm supposed to make this last, but I don't want to hurt him too badly.

I push him into the corner. I move in close, I deliver a couple of weak knees to his 8-pack abs to cover my whisper, "Coal, don't worry, I won’t take the whole 30 minutes. I'll finish this quickly. If anything hurts too badly, let me know."

8 minutes. I throw Coal into the opposite corner, starting to work on his powerful back. I run after him planning to slam into him into the corner. However, Coal outsmarts me. He bounces off the turnbuckle, leveling me with a clothesline as I’m running towards him. Coal nearly takes my head off! I've worked on that arm for 5 minutes, but it still flattens me. Coal shows no sign that anything I did hurt him at all! The crowd oohs and ahhs as the tide starts to turn.

Ouch. I wasn't expecting that.

I'm embarrassed. I mean, I'm supposed to be the wrestler for fuck's sake. I struggle to rise. As Coal approaches, I swing a fist into his abs. It bounces off, hurting me more than him. He arrogantly invites me to try again. I fall for it, same result, but now I'm shaking my hand, trying to get the feeling back. Coal forces me to my feet and whips me into the ropes. I decide to counter with a cross body, but Coal catches me like I weigh nothing. What, are you kidding me? Ineffectual punches and now caught, showing how strong my opponent is? It's like the AWL all over again, except this is for real!

As he carries me around the ring, he whispers, "You should worry. I'm going to take every last second of the next 21 minutes to destroy you."

SLAM! With that, he slams me to the mat harder than I've ever felt in my life. I realize that I may have made a big mistake.

9 minutes. I arch my back in pain, only to have my elevated stomach stomped hard. Coal grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me up. He lifts me off my feet, parades my body around for the crowd then slams me again. SLAM! I arch, he stomps and he picks me up again. SLAM! Another slam and my back is in terrible pain, now. I try to crawl to the corner.

Coal says loudly, "You want the corner? Let me help."

10 minutes. Coal scoops me up, again. This time, he carries me to the corner and drapes me over it, upside down, locking my foot under the turnbuckle. This muscle monster reaches behind me and yanks my trunks, exposing my ass, which is facing the crowd. I hear a lot of "oh yeahs" and "that's the stuff". I hang helplessly with a wedgie in the Tree of Woe as Coal accepts the adulation of the crowd.

Coal asks, "10 minutes have elapsed, men. Should I end this now?" A resounding "NO!" booms through the room. Meanwhile, I finally summon the strength to grab the ropes and hoist myself up, but Coal is there. He kicks my hands off the ropes and I fall back, dangling helplessly again. He kneels down and slams his fist into my stomach. It sinks in and I cry out. Coal delivers a series of punches, until my stomach is red and my ab muscles are completely soft and broken down.

Blood has rushed to my head, making me dizzy, but when Coal climbs the rope and puts his boot between my legs, I wake up fast. Coal poses as my balls are being crushed under the weight of his boot. The mighty bodybuilder finally jumps down. Coal grabs my wrists and lifts my torso up. He steps forward and positions my head between his legs. Coal closes his legs tightly and suspends me there, head between his thighs and leg over the top turnbuckle. He releases my wrists and all my weight is suspended by my neck and ankle.

I scream my submission in pain. Coal drops my head then unlocks my foot. I crash down, glad it's over. But unfortunately, I missed a nuance in the rules. There’s no ref, so effectively it's not my decision when the match ends. No, the decision is Coal's as the dominant wrestler. My submission just gives him the option to end the match. I can scream, plead or beg, but ultimately Coal decides when I've had enough, not me!

13 minutes. I hung upside down for almost three minutes, being wedgied, punched and having my balls crushed before he released me. I'm not recovering fast enough. I need to turn this around, but Coal isn't about to let that happen. He lifts me up again with ease - doesn't this guy ever get tired? Every time I'm up, Coal holds me for a while, increasing the suspense and making sure everyone knows that he's in no rush. He positions himself right in front of the crowd and down I go, this time in an Over-the-Knee Backbreaker!

As I'm draped over his knee, my spine stretched back, he has one hand on my throat. The other hand starts on my thigh and makes its way up into a ball squeeze on my already sore balls. I cry out again, begging him to let me go and give my back a rest. "Please! No more! Please let me go! My back can't take any more!" he just squeezes a little harder. I stay like this for over a minute before being swept off his knee like you might sweep aside a crumb.

14 minutes. I'm on my stomach, rubbing my back. Coal kicks my hands aside and stands on my back, like I'm a doormat. Which, I guess I am. He flexes. He must have done something I can't see, because I hear the crowd yell, "YES!" Maybe they've had enough? Coal reaches under my waist and pulls me to my feet. I'm glad it's finally done. I'm embarrassed about losing, having my ass exposed, but it's a lesson learned.

Coal supports me from behind. I feel him pull me close, my wedgied ass pressing against the python in his white posing trunks. It's then that I realize what he's doing. He lifts and squeezes, locking me in a Reverse Bearhug! I struggle again as he shakes and squeezes me without mercy. I try to pry his arms apart, but it's no use!

He crushes me for a minute then pushes me face first into the ropes. I bounce back into a Forearm Smash, which sends me back onto the ropes. I hang onto the top rope for dear life, but Coal grabs me from behind, spins me around and delivers a front Bearhug this time. I feel myself almost blacking out from the devastating pain.

17 minutes. I suffer (exquisitely, according to the crowd) in his killer bearhug, writhing in pain. Coal finally drops me and goes for an easy pin. I'm in no shape to do anything. The crowd boos, but Coal ignores them. He sits on my face, covering my nose and mouth with his huge balls. ONE! Coal moves to the side. He lies across my chest, flexing his bicep for the audience. TWO! Then I feel Coal reach under my neck and lift me up. The crowd goes wild at the theatre and the fact that the match is going to continue.

Coal says, "No, no, no. It's over when I say it's over." Judging by their cheers, the crowd clearly approves. With no ref, there isn't much I can do. I am Coal's plaything to do with as he pleases. He obviously plans to give this crowd their money's worth.

18 minutes. Coal pulls me to a kneeling position and moves in behind me. He wraps his arm over my neck and pulls me back into a Dragon Sleeper. This move is a killer, but it's also a crowd pleaser, as it stretches me out and shows off my body. I hear men whistling their approval. Coal tightens his grip and my arms fall limp to the side. The world is going black and I realize that I've more than lost. Coal lets go of the hold and pushes me forward, smashing my face into the mat.

I am nearly unconscious as Coal talks to the crowd. Is the match over? I see his boots moving towards me. I can't really process what's happening, but I know it won't be good. I wake up to smacks on my still bare ass. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I feel Coal's hands slide under the waistband of my trunks. He pulls them off, exposing me completely. I try to grab them, but they’re over my boots in seconds. Suddenly, I'm not just being beaten by a bodybuilder, I'm being completely humiliated.

20 minutes. Coal puts my trunks over my face (I hear laughing - I'm now officially a clown) then grabs my hair through the leg hole. He pulls me to my feet and drags me around the ring, much to the delight of the crowd. My body is tanned, but my ass and crotch are pure white. My cock and balls flop around as I stagger around the ring, held up by Coal’s grip on my hair.

Coal positions me facing the crowd. They cheer and enjoy the view of my helpless carcass. Our backs touch and Coal pulls the back of my head onto his shoulder. He lets me hang there while the crowd admires my naked body. When I start to struggle, he drops us down, stunning me again with a Rude Awakening/Hangman's Neckbreaker. I flop down on the mat as he stands up and puts his big boot on my chest. Naked and wrecked, I wait for a count that still never comes.

Coal flexes over my naked body for the crowd. He moves his boot onto my manhood, pressing down to make me cry out. Once he's done with his routine, he reaches down and rolls me onto my stomach.

22 minutes. Coal reaches under my arms and lifts me up to my feet. He locks on a Full Nelson, holding me up. The crowd again gets a perfect view of my bare crotch. Coal shakes me in the Full Nelson and the crowd applauds my humiliation. Coal doesn't bother tightening his hold. I'm beaten and he knows it. No point in making me submit again. His only goal at this point is pandering to the crowd, using me as his plaything.

Coal walks up to the ropes and pushes me against them. He lifts me up and presses his cock against my ass. His thong-covered manmeat parts my ass cheeks and pushes my hips forward. My cock and balls go over the middle rope, resting on it. Coal bounces me up and down and from side to side, letting my cock dance and rub on the ropes. I see through the trunks on my head that men are laughing and applauding his little puppet show.

24 minutes. Coal drops me then drags me to my feet by my hair. I'm nothing but a rag doll to this muscle monster. I always thought bodybuilder muscle was for show, but Coal has real power. He bends me forward and shoves my head between his legs. He keeps me like this, maintaining his slow and deliberate pace. My ass is facing the crowd. They can see my junk dangling between legs. Again, I hear them cheering their approval for my continued degradation.

Coal flexes his thighs, which squeezes my head and I drop to one knee. He grabs my lats, locks on a claw and pulls up, painfully forcing me back up to my feet. He holds the tight claw for a while, shaking me up and down, letting the crowd again savor my lilywhite ass. Coal finally bends forward and wraps his arms around my waist. In one fluid move, he lifts me up into an Over-the-Shoulder Backbreaker.

I really start moaning now. The pain is excruciating. I look out and see the room upside down. The crowd is going wild, loving this abuse. They love my squashes on TV, now they're seeing one live. Only this one is actually real and I’m naked. Coal parades me around the ring, giving the audience a good view of every angle of my body. I flail my arms and kick my feet, but it only increases my pain. Coal does a series of squats that has me crying out loudly, letting everyone know how pathetic I am. When he gets bored, Coal tosses me down like a piece of trash. Which is what I am compared to him.

28 minutes. I look at the clock through blurry eyes. Oh good, it's almost over. I'm completely destroyed. I really don't know how much more I can take.

My muscle bound dominator is circling me. He must see the time, too, because I see him point at me, crawling like a helpless animal in the ring, raise his massive arm and give a thumbs down. I roll to the ropes nearest the crowd. I try to rise, struggling to lift myself up with the ring ropes, my naked body straining to last just another minute. Coal moves to stand over me, flexing his muscles, taunting me as I crawl forward. He can afford to take his time. It's clear to everyone but me that I'm not going anywhere.

29 minutes. Behind me, Coal moves in for the kill. He grabs me and slaps on a Rear Naked Choke. I feel myself rise under the power of his arms. I stagger trying to push him back, trying to free myself, but Coal is unmoving. As I dangle in his arms, wearing only my boots, completely at Coal's mercy, my body battered, manhood on display, I hear the crowd actually cheering my name.

I smile. Then Coal applies pressure and everything goes black.

Chase Must Wrestle

Only when every last fan has left the ring area do they wake me up. I'm finally in the back, awake, alive and nursing my pain. I can't wait to get out of here. The promoter, Dwayne, comes in with a huge smile. He says, "Daring Danny Chase! Amazing. I'm speechless. Now, get out to the lounge, relax, soak up the love and money. I'm booking you for another match in an hour."

I roll my eyes. "Dude, I'm not wrestling again tonight. And not here ever again. Did you see what happened out there? That was a 30-minute ass kicking. I got crushed, knocked out, stripped and paraded around naked while guys cheered. It was fucking humiliating."

Dwayne says, "You say humiliating, I say inspiring. Chase, you need to wrestle again. You have a gift. These men love you. I've never seen a reaction like it for a debut match. I knew pairing you with a wrestler like Coal would work. The contrast, the tension. You were everything these guys wanted and more."

"Dude, I'm sore, I have a killer headache and I'm not sure this is for me. Can I just get my money and go? How much did I make?"

"You made $100 off the gate." Hm, not bad. "But, you'll make $200 next round, because we're charging double for your matches from now on. Plus, some of the fans saw you arrive in your old piece-of-crap car. They're afraid you won't get here next week, so I already have $500 in contributions lined up for you if you're coming next week. Kid, I can't stop you from leaving, but if I was you, I'd grab an aspirin and get my perfect ass into another pair of trunks and walk proudly into the lounge. You’re a star!"

I'm shocked. I do the math. "Whoa, you're saying if I wrestle once more tonight I'll pocket $300 for today. And if I come back next week and wrestle twice, I'll pocket almost a grand?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I've never seen anything like it. And it will probably go up. You could hit two grand when the contributions really start rolling in. We have some high rollers who weren't here this week."

Suddenly, I'm a lot less humiliated. I can pay my rent. And pay my brother back. I say, "Wow. Okay, deal. Hey, will I ever get to wrestle tag with Rex? A couple of the fans were asking me in the lounge earlier. They remember that we've been a team on TV."

The promoter's eyes light up. "Tag? Never done it, but you know what? I think it might work. We've got another big black wrestler, Puck. I team him with Coal and we can make the fans bid for the right to get into the room!  We'll make it a 60-minute slugfest. I'll add more ringside seats all around. We might make ten times a normal round." I smile at that thought.

Excited and re-energized, I realize that I was being a baby earlier. I change into my lime green trunks and head to the lounge. I get a standing ovation this time. My ego soars. I love these guys. Men can't wait to tell me how excited they are to watch me. I get touched, a lot. I let one guy rub the star on the front of my trunks 'for luck' and then they all start doing it. The rubbing makes my cock swell up, which only makes more guys want some luck. Each man slips money into my trunks - singles, fives, tens, even twenties. I feel like a slut, but I like it. I love being appreciated for once.

Finally, it's time for my next match. I pull on my tight jean shorts over my green trunks, leaving them unbuttoned. When I come out, guys are hooting and hollering. My opponent looks surprised, like he isn't sure what's going on. I guess he didn't hear that I'm the hot new thing.

I'm facing Magnum Steel, a wrestler I recognize from a local Indy fed. He's the opposite of Coal - white, still big, but not ripped, wearing shiny black wrestling trunks and boots. Perfect heel. We approach and move in close in a staredown. I put on a mean face so it looks like I'm whispering trash talk, but I actually whisper, "Kick my ass. Hard. Give these guys their money's worth."

The big guy looks confused then smiles and nods slightly. Yeah, I know it's supposed to be competitive, but I don't think anyone will mind this one time. Next week, I’ll fight for real again. We break and I move to the corner where I strip down my tight jeans shorts, revealing my green trunks. The crowd cheers. When my jeans reach my ankles, Magnum charges me, leveling me from behind. I hang on the ropes, dazed, my ankles bound by denim. The crowd goes wild. Magnum poses and flexes as I suffer for another thirty minutes of brutal punishment. Occasionally I fight back, but in the end, I lose beautifully, once again.

I love being cheered. I love being paid. I understand what these men want now and I plan to give it to them. Maybe it will get boring for them or maybe I’ll get a break in the AWL, but until then, this is a pretty good way to earn a living.

The End