The Challenge
As I walk down the hall after my workout, I’m hot and sweaty, my muscles pumped to the max. My massive chest is bare, except for the coating of black sweaty fur that covers it. I can’t wait to hit the showers and relax until show time, but then, as I pass the boss’ office, I overhear a conversation and decide to eavesdrop …
“C’mon, Vic, you know I don’t deserve this. I’ve been putting this kid over for the past two months and I’ve never complained. I’ve been selling every move and covering every missed spot. But c’mon. It’s getting embarrassing. Last night, you call for Ollie and Terry to interfere, but I still lose to him. I get that he’s huge, but he’s still a rookie. I’m supposed to be the big bad enforcer of the AWL. Now I’m getting pinned every week by a 22-year old kid.”
I hear Vic respond, “Andy, Andy, Andy, I get it, but this is 1983. The 70’s are over and times are changing. The crowds are changing. TV is changing. Yeah, he’s young and a little green, but he’s big and built. He’s got the kind of face and body that people want to see nowadays. I can promote him. Attendance is up. TV is up. We’re selling posters and t-shirts of him – boys AND girls want Colt’s picture on their wall.”
Andy replies, “So what’re you saying? I’m done? I’m too old? Are you hiring those punks from The Outsiders? Are Rob Lowe and Matt Dillon going to be pinning me next week? There’s more to this business than looks, Vic. You want crowds to cheer him, but you need them to hate me.”
Vic puts up his hands and says, “Andy, I hear you. No one can work a match like you. That’s why I put you with the kid. No one can work over a face like you. You’ve got your role – you still get the most heat of anyone in the business, outside of Rex. But I think this kid has potential. Not only his looks. He’s talented on the mic and with the crowds.”
Andy replies, “Yeah, I get it. But promote him without killing my career.”
“That’s not –“
Andy interrupts, “Vic. You don’t want me to just lose tonight. You want him to kick out of my piledriver finisher. On TV. That’s my career move, man. Once it happens once, that’s it. I’m stuck with nothing.”
The Andy who’s speaking is Andy Arlington, one of the top heels in the pro wrestling business. He has held both the tag and the North American title belts and is currently part of one of the most successful heel factions in pro wrestling, the Doomsday Crew, led by World Heavyweight Champion, The Natural Rex Dare.
Vic is Vic Gagnon, a former wrestler and head booker for the American Wrestling League, the number two pro wrestling promotion in the country. Today is Sunday, my favorite day, because we’re back home from the road. It’s also the day we tape our two weekly TV shows that air the next weekend around the country. It can be pretty stressful for most of the guys. Will we make the show? Will we win? Lose? Everyone lobbies Vic, because there’s nobody more powerful in the AWL than Vic, not even Rex.
So, as you can probably guess, I’m ‘the kid’ Andy’s talking about. My ring name is Colt Hill. At 6’6”, 290-lbs of deep tanned muscle, I’m a stud on the rise, one of the hottest stars in the AWL. I have dark brown curly hair and a mustache. I keep my gear simple – white trunks with a pair of black Texas longhorns sewn front and back. And the longhorn symbol on the front of my trunks is pretty appropriate (hey, it ain’t bragging if it’s true, right?). I’ve never met a woman who wouldn’t spread her legs for me. In fact, you’d be surprised how many guys would, too, but I keep that on the down low.
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Me, Colt Hill
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Andy’s my opposite. He’s 36-years old and a veteran wrestler. His hair (what’s left of it) is lighter and he has what you can call an old school body. He’s only 6’1” tall and he’s a beefy 250-lbs with a thick, hairy torso. He’s got nice big beefy pecs, but also a gut. He wears old school cloth trunks. Sure, he looks rugged with his beard – I can see how some people think he’s handsome – but he’s nothing compared to me.
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Andy Arlington
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I’ve only been wrestling for a few years. See, I blew out my knee playing football freshman year. I got angry, depressed and eventually failed my classes, lost my scholarship and got kicked out. But wrestling saved me. I met a guy with a local Texas independent. I’d never wrestled before, but he saw something in me and taught me the ropes. Vic brought me to AWL once I knew what I was doing. Now I’m on TV. It’s given me a new chance to be somebody.
I’ve been beating Andy’s ass all over the country, in house shows and on TV. We’ve wrestled so many times that we need new ideas. I lobbied one of the other bookers to kick out of Andy’s finisher. I guess he doesn’t appreciate it, so he’s gone to the top.
So now, Andy is pushing for a win, “Why not give me a win against the kid? He can win the rematch, but at least let me notch one legit, clean win on my belt.”
I step into the doorway and say confidently, “Andy, I may be amazing at selling your heel shit, but c’mon, even I can’t sell you winning clean over me.” I spread my arms out and shrug my shoulders, showing off my bare torso, enormously pumped from the workout. I figure Vic needs a reminder that it’s the future, not the past that he needs to be worried about. This is the body of legends and I’m the new face of the AWL.
Andy says, “I was wondering when you’d come in instead of just listening at the door like a schoolgirl.” My face goes red. Before I can say a word, Andy asks, “Now, rookie, what did you just say about believability? You thinking you’re so tough that no one will believe Double-A can win?”
I smirk. I don’t mean to be an arrogant asshole, but come on. It’s hard not to be when a guy like this tries to deny the obvious. Instead of answering, I put my hands on my hips and bounce my pecs. Vic raises an eyebrow, showing he is impressed. I figure I’ve made my point, but I add (with the kind of condescending tone that only a young muscle stud can pull off), “Look, Andy, you’re a heel. Heels cheat. They need help to beat the face. That’s how the business works. But the rising face doesn’t lose to the champ’s lackey.”
Andy doesn’t like this at all. He marches up to me fast, but I don’t move an inch, so we bump, his beefy chest hitting just below my ripped, bulging pecs. He looks up at me and says, “I don’t need a rookie telling me how the business works. I was working in the business when you were in diapers, kid. I’ve been wrestling pro since I was 12.”
Andy balls his fist, but before anything happens, Vic puts up his hands and we separate. Vic says, “Hold on. For today’s taping, here’s the deal. I need y’all for a solid 15-minute match to anchor the cable show. Mark’s the ref. You guys work out the action for yourselves with Mark, but make it a little more back-and-forth than it’s been. Colt will win by DQ. Now I still have a lot of other guys to talk to.”
Vic walks off, leaving Andy and I standing in his office. There’s an uncomfortable silence, which I feel the need to break. I ask, “What did you think you were doing? I’ve earned my push and a loss totally screws with that. Look, I get that it’s hell to get old, but shit, you should respect that a new generation is here.” I lifted my arms and flexed to give Andy a better view.
Andy looks at me incredulously. He says, “You want to talk to me about what you’ve earned? You want to impress me with those muscles? Fuck off, kid. Just focus on not missing half your fucking spots before you kill someone.” I go red with fury. Yeah, I might not do one or two moves perfectly, but I’ve come a long way. Andy says, “And don’t ever forget that you’re only winning because it’s written that way. You may be big, but there’s more to wrestling than that.”
“I’m not some prettyboy bodybuilder. I know how to fight, old timer,” I say with a smirk.
Andy says, “I’d kick your ass right here, but we’ve got a show tonight. The great Colt Hill is due for another win.” He laughs as he says this last bit.
I want Andy’s respect and there’s only way to get it. “Fuck you, old man. Put up or shut up. Tomorrow morning. You. Me. Mat room. One-on-one.”
He accepts my challenge. I’m looking forward to toying with this beefy older guy. And before I’m done with him, I plan to get a few concessions.
The Warmup
Our television match goes off without a hitch. I don’t miss a single spot and Andy loses by DQ as planned. I admit that the dude is a professional and he has worked hard for a long time. But he needs to be taught a lesson about respecting us younger guys, too. And I’m the perfect guy to do it.
The next morning I head into the mat room early and start stretching, wearing a pair of white practice trunks. I’m trying to decide how hard I should go and how badly to humiliate Andy. My cock stirs at the thought of the great Andy Arlington sucking my big dick, so I decide to go hard and really humiliate him.
I keep stretching when Andy walks in, right on time. After the number of matches we’ve had, Andy knows my body pretty well, but I still catch him watching me. I wonder if he might want to just call this thing off.
Andy is wearing street clothes. Without even acknowledging me, he starts stripping down. He strips his shirt and shoes. Out of the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a pair of his cloth trunks. When he peels his jeans down, I see that he’s wearing a jock. He slips his trunks on and stands there looking at me.
I break the ice. “So what’s the deal?”
Andy said, “Deal is, you need an ass kicking and I’m gonna give it to you.”
I laugh and decide to push Andy as far as his ego will take him. “Yeah, that might work for you, old man, but proving I can kick your ass buys me nothing. Here’s my deal. After I kick your ass, you stop crying to Vic, you stop talking to Vic about anything to do with me. You let Vic and me work out what happens and you accept it. If he agrees to me kicking out off your piledriver next week, you say yes, sir. Hell, if he makes you my valet, you say yes, sir. Whatever he tells you, you say yes, sir.”
Andy stood there with a smirk on his face, arms folded across his chest. He said, “Really? That all?”
I don’t like his attitude, so I take it further. I reply, “No, you’re also going to suck my dick. I’d fuck you, but I don’t think you could take it.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself. You know what, sure, you can fuck me if you win. But you agree to the same deal – loser sucks dick, gets fucked and lets the winner work out the outcome of our matches?”
I couldn’t believe Andy was going for it. I agree in a heartbeat. “Yeah, sure. How many falls?”
Andy shrugs, “We go until one of us says he can’t.”
With that, I stand up and we get started.
Round One
Andy and I lock up quickly. I throw him back, acting like he weighs nothing. He’s been a big man his whole career, so I know it will bother him. I bounce my pecs, reminding him of the power he’s facing. Skill can beat power, but not when the difference is this big. We circle and lock up again. This time, Andy tries a knee to my abs, but his knee just bounces off me. I open my arms wide and say, “C’mon, go ahead. One free punch to the abs.”
Andy scoffs, but I can tell he’s wondering about this match. He doesn’t take me up on my offer, so I rub it in. “The great Andy Arlington, backing down from a free shot? I get it. Afraid you’ll break your hand.”
“Are you going to talk me into submission, kid?”
I smirk at him and lift my hands up for a test of strength. I want to see him back down from another challenge. To my surprise, he comes in close, arms lifting to accept. I step into him, but he fools me, grabbing me around the waist and toppling me in a takedown. I manage to land on hands and knees, with Andy atop me. He grabs my waist and pulls me over, grabbing my arm in an armlock, planting his knee on my lat. He bends it back, trying to weaken my shoulder.
Andy tries, but he can’t hold me down. I roll towards him and I force him to rise. He twists my arm under and behind me in a chicken wing. We walk the mat in this position. It doesn’t really hurt, but it’s annoying. Andy cranks against my muscles, but I resist. I lift my free arm and swing it back to elbow his head. My back is too broad for me to actually elbow his head, but it scares him enough that his grip loosens. I pull free, turn and slam a forearm into his chest while tripping him with my foot. Andy topples back and I dive on top of him, holding him down in a schoolboy pin.
I slide my knees over his shoulders and grab behind his head. I pull his face into my package, his nose presses into my balls. “Yeah, Get a good whiff, because this is what you’re in for. Yeah, you’re gonna love sucking my big dick, old timer.” When I’ve had my fun, I jump off of him and get back to my feet. I have a huge smile on my face. Andy, though, looks deadly serious. I can tell he’s working out moves and countermoves. I’d tell him not to bother, but why spoil it. I want him to try. I want to embarrass him.
We move in again, collar and elbow, but once again, Andy ducks it. He moves behind me and gives my kidneys a hard shot, which is followed by another one. I admit that I did feel them. I turn right into another takedown, this time planting me on my back. Andy drives four knees into my abs, but I flex them and they don’t give an inch. He hops to the side and locks on a headlock, but I push him off me.
As I rise, Andy uses his foot on the back of my knee to keep me from reaching my feet. He plants his knee in between my shoulder blades and grabs under my chin. When I reach to pry his hands apart, he pushes me forward, face first onto the mat. Andy grabs my right wrist and wrenches my arm up, going after my shoulder again. He puts his weight on my back to hold me down. I push against his hold, but my shoulder is feeling a little twinge. Andy’s a strong man, despite what I say about him. However, he’s not as strong as me.
I bring my knees up, lift and roll onto my back, freeing my arm. Andy grabs my arm again, but I surprise him with my speed by powering out of his hold and pushing him back into my waiting legs. I lock in a scissors around his waist. He lies there in my legs, looking up. He pushes on my legs, trying to part them, but it’s useless. He’s going nowhere. I know I have it locked on right, because his face shows the pain. He tries to pound my legs and abs, but that’s not going to work.
I squeeze harder, starting to sweat from the pressure I’m applying. Andy can’t do anything and he knows it. Instead of fighting it, he taps my legs and says, “Okay, give.”
I say, “One nothing. Want to call it quits?”
“Fuck you. One lucky fall.”
“Right. Have it your way.”
Round Two
Andy gets up. We start again and it goes just like the first fall. I can tell he is pissed at his inability to move me. I go easy, letting Andy try more arm holds, headlocks, scissors, everything. As soon as they start to hurt, I power out of them. He attacks almost every part of my body, but it’s the same story. We’re both sweating, but he has doing a lot more work than me.
Even though we’ve wrestled in the ring twenty times during our feud between all the house shows and on TV, I don’t think Andy totally realized before now that I’m not like the other guys around here. I don’t weigh old school 290. I’m all muscle and power. All his skill and experience means nothing – he can’t move me. There’s no hold he can lock on that I can’t power out of. This ridiculous contest is over, but somehow, he doesn’t know it yet.
I let this go on, because I don’t want to just beat this fucker, I want to send a message so he never thinks about challenging me again. I want to destroy his over inflated ego, which comes from years of being handed wins because of his ‘enforcer’ reputation. This is so the next time I have to sell something, he knows I’m fucking selling it, because he cannot hurt me.
Enough is enough. He should have gotten the message by now. Andy has me in a head scissors. I power up, standing up, with him dangling head down. I push him off me and he lands face down on the mat.
I move fast and reach under Andy’s stomach. In one smooth move, I lift him off the mat into a standing reverse bearhug. I hoist his 250-lbs in the air like it’s nothing. I shake him back-and-forth. He moans and groans as I squeeze the life out of him. “Give up yet?” He says nothing, but tries to reach back and grab anything. There’s nothing for him to grab, as my nose is buried in between his shoulder blades and my grip keeps him from bending over.
The bearhug continues, but Andy holds out. I let him down, but I push him into the wall. He crashes hard, face first. I run in behind him and squash him between the wall and my body. The paneling actually cracks. He falls back into my waiting arms. I lock on a full nelson. He immediately groans. I shake it vigorously and Andy has had enough.
“GIVE, GIVE, GIVE.” I release immediately, but I throw him to the mat with contempt.
I stand directly in front of him, adjusting my cock in my thin trunks. It’s growing and I want him to see it and fear it. It’s going to tear him in two. Andy just kneels on the mat, rubbing his shoulders. I say, “That’s two. Again?”
Andy replies, “Hell yes. Keep that thing in your trunks. This isn’t over. We go until one of us can’t.”
I laugh. “You got it. I can wait a little longer to fuck that sweet ass.”
Yes, I’m more than happy to oblige this fucker’s masochistic side. In fact, I love this. I realize that I’m not satisfied with our stakes. I want more from this old man. Even if I beat him today, it’s not going to teach him a long-term lesson. Sure, me kicking out of his piledriver on the next show will linger, but I want more.
I say, “You know what, I don’t think I’ll be satisfied fucking you just today. I like seeing you on your knees. I get real horny on the road and I get tired of fucking ring rats. Change of plans. Loser becomes the winner’s fuck toy. Any time, any place.”
Andy looks at me. He says, “Doesn’t sound like a request. I guess I’ve got no choice.”
“I figured you’d be okay with it. Being fucked by me is probably an honor for you. It’ll give you a purpose after I make your finisher a joke.” I grab and adjust my pouch, so he can see what he’s in for then I raise my arms into a double bicep pose for him as we start our third (and probably final) round.
To be continued …
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