The Cave 8: Working It Out

"Ryan, dude, I don't like what you're saying. Are you forgettin' what Cody did to you? Are you forgettin' how messed up you was when we met? I mean, c'mon, dude."

So, I’m Ryan and the guy talking at me is Pete, one of my better friends. We’re just hanging out at Pete’s house tonight, chilling, watching baseball, drinking beer. Or at least we were. Now Pete’s frustrated by me and I’m irritated by him.

Me (Ryan) and my buddy Pete

I nod and hold up my hand, signaling for Pete to stop talking at me. I regret ever saying anything and am tired of having this conversation. Don't get me wrong, Pete has been a good friend lately. He's been with me through my recent turmoil and drama with Cody, my ex-BFF and current partner in a burgeoning side business. I appreciate Pete being an ear for my rants, but he's also got some strong opinions on Cody and what I should be doing with entire my life. I've passively listened up to now, but tonight, I don't want to discuss it.

While I feel like Cody betrayed me pretty badly, he also seems to have learned a lesson, regrets what he did and, in hindsight, I need to take a lot of responsibility for what happened, too. Pete hates that I'm thinking this way. He badmouths Cody a lot, even though he barely knows him. It's probably driven by jealousy. Cody is more fit and classically good looking than Pete. Well, Cody's more fit and classically good looking than almost anyone. Personally, I think Pete's a sexy, beefy stud. He's 6'2", just over 300-lbs and pretty solid, totally my type physically. I used to be even bigger and softer than that, but am now a hard-bodied 6'4"/250-lbs. Good for me, but I think it makes Pete insecure.

I think the fact that Pete and I are friends with benefits has overly complicated things, too. He said he could handle it, but I'm not so sure. Our sexual relationship seems to have opened the door for Pete to get too emotionally involved in my life. Lately, he's been hinting at becoming more than friends, which he knows I'm not interested in with anyone right now.

Normally, I let him go on his anti-Cody rant, but tonight, I'm just not in the mood. I respond, "I know, Pete. Trust me, I know. I don't want to talk about it. Can we just watch the game?"

"Sure, let's watch. But, Ryan, dude, you need to listen to me. Seriously, forget about that spoiled, selfish, prettyboy. Cut him out of your life. Just. Cut. Him. Out. Done. He's not callin' you. You shouldn't call him. Man, I get that it's tough. But you're making it tougher on yourself. Guys like that never change. I mean, I told you that it was a mistake for you to be at these squash matches I schedule for him. I can get someone else to hold the camera. But after every match, he tries to talk to you. To work you. I see what he's doin'. Believe me, I know guys like this. He's had everything his way his whole life. He just stands there looking like he looks and he expects things to fall in place. You shouldn't even come to watch the matches. You should enjoy seein' him get his ass kicked, but you don't. Why? 'Cause he's in your head. Why am I madder about how he treated you than you are? I'm goin' to give it to you straight. You shouldn't have any contact with him. From now on, I'll handle everything with The Cave. I'm your liaison, your executive assistant. In fact, I'll make it easy. You're banned when Cody's wrestlin'. You hear me, I'm officially bannin' you. I think it's just too hard and too confusin' for you to be near him. I told you that he's usin' The Cave to worm his way into your life. That's what's happenin'. He's a sneaky little fucker. You should know that. We're cuttin' him out of our life. You're just too nice, and I love you for that, but you're just too nice to see it, so I'm steppin' in. You'll be happier if you just forget about him. You know what, you should quit The Cave. There are just way too many memories. Let's you and me start our own thang. Together. That'd be perfect. You know what to do and I'm learnin'. I've got some money saved up, we could run it out of this house. Yeah, think about it, you and me in business together. We'll be P/RW, Pete/Ryan Wrestling. Awesome, right? We can come up with a catchy name and theme for the site. Our competitors, the smaller ones like us, have their niche - frat house brawls, young buff pro matches, beefy bears. We need to figure out a good one. Great. No point in wasting time. I'll let Cody know tomorrow. I'll tell him you're done and he can buy you out. We'll see how long The Cave lasts without you doin' all the work. Okay, you know what, you'll need to show me the books. I can work out a fair price for your half. If Cody won't buy it, I bet someone else will. It's a solid little business now, thanks to you. All Cody ever did was be the stud muffin in trunks. Guys like that are a dime a dozen. Hell, you could do that. I could, too, depending on what our theme is. You deserve way more than half for all the hard work you put into it, but the important thing is that you get done with that asshole Cody. We won't quibble over money. The goal is to cut him out of our life. How did you ever stay friends with him for so long? Well, you were kids, so I guess that's why. You know what pisses me off most about Cody? No, wait, sorry, we just shouldn't talk about that guy any more. From now on, his name is banned. He's the one who shall not be named. Just like Voldemort. Ha, he is Voldemort, you're Dumbledore and I'm Harry. Perfect analogy, right? Wait, what about a sci-fi/fantasy theme? That's an idea. Damn, we're getting a lot accomplished. I can't believe we're going into business together. Hey, I'm gonna make a smoothie. You want a smoothie? Ugh. I just tripped over your gym bag. Again. You know, if we're goin' into business together, we should really just move in together. We can operate things out of here and save on commutin' time. With both of us workin' full-time, it'll make life easier. I know what you're thinkin' and yeah, my house is small, but it's big enough for two of us. It's crazy that you're payin' so much rent when you don't have to. It'd be cheaper and easier for both of us if you just moved in here. We'd be great roommates, since we're so compatible. Maybe we'll be more one day, but I'm not pressurin' you. Things are good as they are. At least then I wouldn't trip over your bag. By the way, I've made reservations this weekend at a couple of places. I know you're not a fan of Indian food, but I want you to try this place. Keep an open mind. And then on Saturday, Aidan and Jaden want to go to that new place, but it's some weird family-style thing, so I said we'd come along, help fill out the table. God, I hope Caden's not there. He just loves to stare at you. It bugs me. You're too nice to say anything, but I might. Hey Caden, it's never gonna happen. Ugh, he's such a creep. Here's your smoothie, carrot-apple with extra protein. Hm. It feels good to sit down. You're awfully quiet. So, what do you think?"

"Hm? Sure, Caden's okay. Invite him over." There's a pause and a stare. I turn my eyes from the game and stare back, eyebrow raised. I finally process that Pete was asking me something, but not before Pete realizes I wasn't listening. Needless to say, he's not happy.

"Aren't you listenin' to me? Ryan, we're mappin' out your life here, don't you wanna participate? Fuck, I can't believe this game is more important than me. And Caden is NOT okay, he's a creep. Argh!" Pete can be very dramatic for a big, burly guy. It's sort of funny, actually.

I sigh. "Pete, listen, if I choose to forgive Cody, that's my call. Not yours. I willingly let Cody run my life from the time I was 10. That was my mistake. You're a good friend, but I'm not interested in being in that situation again."

Pete's face turns bright red. He says slowly, "Don't. You. Compare us. I'm tryin' to help you, to protect you. And I'm right. But we can continue this talk later." Pete leans in to kiss me, which is his way of ending our argument. But I don't feel like letting it happen tonight.

I push him off, stand up off the sofa and say, "Don't. Cody said he was trying to protect me from getting hurt. Everything can be rationalized, but it feels the same. All I'm saying is don't make decisions for me and don't tell me what to do. Ugh. I really need to work out." I can see anger rising in Pete's face, but he just shakes his head.

Pete says, "Fine." He rolls off the couch and comes in behind me as I walk away. Pete tries to hug me, but I shake him off.

"I said, don't."

I need to be left alone. Pete tries again and I extend my arm, keeping some distance. He doesn't give up touching me, so I shove him, maybe too hard. I'm not 100% used to my strength. He stumbles back. Pete nods, processing things. I stand my ground. He comes up and shoves me. I shove him back. When he comes in close, I grab his arm and pull him into a headlock. Pete forces me into the wall and punches my side.

Pete pulls free of my headlock and shoves me back into the wall. He looks angry, but so do I. We stare at each other, both tense. Finally, Pete says, "Fine. Have it your way. You wanna work out? Get your ass in the mat room. Maybe I can beat some sense in you."

I nod. I reach into my overnight bag and grab a pair of black trunks. Pete storms into his bedroom as I strip down in the living room. I strip off my shirt and shorts, toss them aside then slip into my spandex covering. I love the feeling of the tight briefs pull them over my ass and nestle my package inside. I do a couple of deep knee bends in the living room before I head to the mats.

In my gear 

I adjust my package as I enter Pete's connected two-car garage, which is now a mat room, complete with double resilite padding over the concrete floor and foam pads over the cinder block walls. It’s a big space, which is perfect for big boys like us.

Despite both loving wrestling, Pete and I have never actually wrestled a serious match. We've never done it as more than foreplay. But, after what just happened, I don't think this is foreplay. I think we both intend to work out some frustration, using the other guy as our wrestling dummy.

Ryan vs. Pete

Pete walks into the garage, but I don't look up from my stretching. I hear him flick a switch, starting up the camera he has mounted in the corner. He records as many of his matches as his opponents will allow, keeping a huge collection of tapes and DVDs under his bed. Pete doesn't ask me if I'm okay with this, but I don't object. If there's one thing I know about Pete, it's that he's trustworthy with stuff like this. He has probably over a hundred private matches and he won't even show them to me without the other guy's permission.

I continue stretching as Pete stomps around. I finally look up as he passes in front of the garage door. I see that he's wearing the black trunks with the pattern of Bane's mask (from the comic book) on the front. I remember when he first showed them to me, the day of my match with Cody, telling me he wanted to support me on my tough day. I was surprised he went to the expense, but also touched by the sentiment. Then, when he wore them in action against Cody, fuck, he drove me from sentimental to full-on horndog.

Pete in his gear 

I tear my gaze from his package. I notice that he is carrying my matching Bane mask. He must have dug it out of my bag before coming in. I'm surprised and unsure what his plan is. He better not be thinking about wearing my mask. Before I can say a word, Pete tosses the mask at me.

Pete says, "Put it on. If we're gonna do this, let's do it right. Henchman vs. villain."

I accept the challenge. I slowly pull on my mask. I adjust it carefully, tightening it up and tying it. I check it in the mirror then turn back to Pete. Everything has a red tinge to it and my vision isn't 100%, but I was able to squash The Bat in the ring, so I can handle a mat match.

Properly attired, we circle the mat room. Pete says, "I figured we'd be a tag team when we wore this stuff, but this works, too." I merely shrug, tired of talking and ready to work out some of my frustrations. My mind is only about a third in this room, since I'm also thinking about how I ended up in here wrestling Pete, the similarities between my relationships with Pete and Cody and what it says about me.

We lockup, straining and stretching against one another. It feels great to be against a guy who's this big and strong and it brings back some of my focus. We jostle for position. Pete leans in with all his weight, pushing forward, but I'm ready. I move into him and grab him around the shoulder. I use his momentum to flip him, taking him down to the mat, back first. When a guy Pete's size goes down, he goes down hard. I can tell his back twinges from the impact.

Pete sits up, so I move in behind him. I drive a knee into his back and grab him under the chin. I crank on the pressure. Pete reaches for his back, giving me an opening. I grab his wrist and force his hand up his back. With my other hand, I slap on a half nelson. Pete's big and strong, I need to wear him down and control him. I push down on the back of his neck and lift his wrist up his back, simultaneously putting pressure on his shoulder and neck. I've got Pete locked up well. He's definitely suffering, as he tries to escape. As I press and pull him, the big man is already grunting.

Pete's probably used to being able to power out of anything, but it's not so easy with me. The big man tries to roll up, but I kneel forward, pressing my weight down on Pete. I may not be a 300-lbs bruiser, but I'm not exactly light, either. He tries to shake me off, but I fight for control. Pete manages to thrust sideways, powering us back. I lose my grip as we fall back on the mat.

With the hold broken, I back off and rise. At the same time, Pete scrambles up, looking pissed. I shrug out my shoulders and bounce on the balls of my feet as we circle again. He's swinging his arm and twisting his neck, loosening up, which I take as a good sign. I move in for a lockup and Pete accepts. This time, the beefy stud doesn't play around, taking the advantage immediately. He pushes me into the foam padding that's attached to the concrete block outer wall. Even though it's padded, the wall is still hard. Pete slams his big body into me then pulls on my arm, flipping me with a one-arm takedown. I roll over him, landing hard. He tries to hold my arm, but I manage to break free.

Pete reaches for me, but I keep rolling across the mat. By the time he closes the gap, I'm ready for him. I duck down, kneeling sideways before Pete. The big guy's momentum carries him onto my shoulders. I grab Pete in a fireman's carry then flip him over onto his back. He's disoriented long enough for me to turn, grab his arm and lock on a tight scissors.

The big man slaps the mat with his free arm, frustrated as I squeeze on the head scissors. My thighs crush down on Pete's big head. He tries to bridge, but a hard twist of his arm ends that. I extend my legs, amping up the pressure. Pete is moaning on the mat. I know his body is tough, but his head is just like everyone else's.

Pete punches my thighs, but they're flexed, hard and unforgiving. His head is flush, but he's not submitting. The beefy man finally manages to use his weight to roll onto his side and get some leverage. I'm holding his arm, but not able to apply pressure on it in this position. Realizing where this is headed, instead of fighting Pete, I twist with him. He's surprised and suddenly my knees and his forehead are on the mat, both of us have our asses in the air.

I brace my hands on the mat then bring my right foot onto my left calf. I lock it behind my knee into a figure four head scissors. I get good pressure on his neck and head, causing his hips to fall flat to the mat. I look under my torso, past my bulge and focus on Pete's head. I can hear him groaning in pain. His feet are kicking the mat and he's got his hands on my thighs, trying to resist the hold.

I can tell Pete's suffering, but he's still not submitting. I squeeze tighter, really applying the pressure to his ears. With a sudden burst of energy, he pushes forward, toppling me forward. I quickly release the scissors. I roll to the side, before Pete can counter and get on top of me.

I spring up to my feet as Pete charges at me from his knees. I manage to grab him under his arm and around his thick neck. Although it looks like a front facelock, with Pete's arm trapped, it allows me to apply more pressure to his shoulder. Pete is bent over, unable to rise. I lock my right hand on my left bicep, resting my left hand on Pete's thick back. This lets me control him in the hold as he pushes me, trying to shove me into the wall again. I manage to steer him as we lap the mat. I crank hard, compressing his neck and shoulder, which is not an easy task.

I want to flip Pete down, but he counters by shifting his weight, fighting my move. Realizing the futility of trying to flip a 300-lbs guy, I instead pull him into me and slide my foot behind his. I twist and push, toppling the big man back and down on his ass then his back as I fold his head up and forward. Pete rolls back and forth under me, but he can't break my lock.

I slip my feet under his legs, weave them behind his knees and lock on a grapevine. With the two holds, Pete's bulk is useless. He's immobile, with only one free arm. He slugs my side, but I take the punches. I crank harder, trying to get a quick submission. Pete holds out as long as he can, but the punches turn into three taps.

I release him and roll off him. Pete's head falls back as he mutters, "Fuck me."

"Maybe after I get a couple more submissions."

Round Two

Pete ignores my comment as he rolls to his feet. He wastes no time moving in for another lock up. I can tell by his look that he's pissed about losing a fall, especially in under ten minutes. We've never talked win-loss before, but at his size, I doubt any of the casual wrestlers he's met online have ever been a real challenge for him. And, of course, he squashed Cody, albeit right after I demolished Cody. What a day that was, I got my revenge then Pete ended up finishing the job. It was probably a mistake to let that happen. Cody and Pete shouldn't really have a beef.

As I think about things, Pete moves in. I don't react quickly and he muscles me into the wall. He slams me back, as I don't resist, being distracted by my thoughts. When my back hits the wall, it wakes me up, but Pete's got his weight on me. He lifts his hand to my throat, forces my head up then peppers my abs with huge punches, putting his weight behind them. I grunt with each hard fist. When I try to block the blows to my abs, Pete tightens the chokehold, causing me to instinctively reach for his arm. With my abs undefended, Pete manages to deliver another series of shots before I can push him off me.

Pete steps back and asks, "Did you forget we're wrestling?"

I shake my head and rub my neck. I lean back and to the side, stretching out my abs. We lock up again, with Pete pulling instead of pushing. I'm surprised and stumble forward into him. Pete lifts a knee into my abs then reaches over my head. He locks his hand over my neck and his other hand around the side of my black trunks. With tremendous power, the big man suplexes me over onto my back! I crash down hard on the mat.

Pete rolls over and sits on my right arm, using his weight to immobilize my arm and shoulder. I reach over to push him away, but he grabs my left wrist with both hands and forces it under my head. He pins my wrist under his left knee. With my arms trapped, the big man sends jabs into my bulging chest. I thrash under the pec punishment, but I can't get free. I buck my hips up and try to twist, but Pete just keeps softening up my muscle.

I finally manage to work my left arm free. I twist my body towards Pete, guarding my pecs. I punch his stomach. It's hard and solid, but my punch is enough to back Pete up so I can slide my right arm free. I roll away as Pete stands up. I'm shaking out my arm, but Pete's not waiting. He moves in immediately.

Once again, I'm a step slow. Pete's in and grabbing my weakened pecs before I've gotten my defenses up. He tightens the claw, capitalizing on his punches, then powers me back into the wall. I collide in hard, the padding barely protecting me. I lose focus as Pete punishes me. He squeezes my pec muscles as he pulls me from the wall only to slam me in again. He keeps this up, using my pecs to pull me away then drive me back into the wall. I'm limp when the beefy stud finally releases my pecs, leaving red marks from his fingers. He lifts a knee into me abs then pulls me up by the back of my mask.

I receive two hard chops across my pecs. My torso becomes his punching bag, as punches and knees rain into my chest and abs. With my core weakened, Pete knows I won't be able to move his bulk easily. I push Pete back, but he charges forward, splashing me into the wall. My air and power leave me and I fall weakly against Pete, my masked head dropping onto his shoulder.

The big man wraps his arms around my waist. He lifts and turns, slamming me down with a belly-to-belly suplex. I just moan on the mat as Pete rises up and sits back. We're both sweaty and fatigued, the disadvantage of our size, but I'm definitely more worn down. Pete brushes his hair back then rolls me onto my stomach. He stands up then jumps and splashes down onto my back. He just lies there for a second, gathering himself.

I feel Pete's hand grabbing the back of my mask, pulling my head up. He rolls closer, grabbing me under the chin, forcing my head up. With his stomach on my back, I'm bent up. I reach for his forearm, trying to pull it off me. I make the mistake of kicking with my feet. As my right foot rises, Pete manages to grab my ankle and pull my knee off the mat. It's not conventional, but it's effective, as Pete's weight and modified bow and arrow hold puts pressure on my neck and back.

As I suffer, Pete's actually resting, gathering his strength. I finally manage to free my head, but Pete's ready. He rolls up my back, pulling my leg with him. He presses my chest down into the mat with his big body. While using both of his hands to hold my ankle, bringing it over top towards my masked head. He wraps one arm around my knee and locks hands, securing his grip and lessening his effort.

Pete has me folded in an odd, but effective, crab. I'm forced to fight the pain while trying to move Pete's 300-lbs. He's wearing me down while regaining his strength. I plant my hands beside my shoulders and take a deep breath.  I press up while pulling my leg forward, desperate to move Pete. With everything I've got, I manage to move him, forcing him off me. He lets go of my leg and we both roll to opposite sides.

I'm red, sweaty and breathing hard. My battered chest is heaving, my mask and trunks are soaked. Pete won't let me rest, he's too smart for that. While my strength decreases, his weight remains constant. He knows that the longer he can stay on top of me, the better off he'll be.

The big man moves in. From my knees, I dive under Pete's grip and grab a leg. I lift to topple him, but he doesn't move. Instead, he manages to bring his forearms down across my back before I can shift him at all. I arch my back in pain, kneeling before Pete's big body. He grabs my mask and puts my head between his legs. Before I can react, Pete grabs me around the waist and lifts.

Showing more power than I thought he had, Pete lifts me up and flips me into an over-the-shoulder backbreaker. The small of my back rests on his right shoulder, my head and arms hanging helplessly in front of him with my legs dangling limply behind. Pete has me secured with one arm as he walks me around the mat. He stops in front of the mirror, where he admires himself. Pete flexes his left arm, showing off. When he watches this back, I'm sure he'll cum at this very moment.

I catch an upside down glimpse of my predicament in the same mirror. It would be a hot shot, if I wasn't the victim in it. My back is aching. My big muscled body is useless to me. I fight the urge to submit, but unless Pete slips or lets me go, there's no escape. I'm moaning in pain while my opponent waits.

Pete asks, "Gonna submit, big boy?"

I steel my will, but ultimately, I say, "Yeah. Submit, I submit!"

Pete drops me to the mat. I lie there, holding my back. I waited way too long to give in. My stubbornness may have really cost me, as I rub my lower back muscles, trying to massage them to health. Pete's work on my torso, front and back, was the smart way to go.

I rear back, stretching myself out as Pete says, "Are we done?"

My pride responds, "No, let's go again."

Round Three

Damn, my core feels like crap, but I also feel better in a weird way. I needed this action to relieve my stress. I just need to focus on wrestling Pete. Unfortunately, my super-sized opponent isn't about to stop and let me figure shit out. He's already chomping at the bit to start the next round.

I climb to my feet and we circle the mat. Pete's looking very cocky, probably because I'm still working out my midsection. He moves in, only to be met by my foot to his abs. I don't get the power behind it I want, but it surprises Pete long enough for me to follow up. I move in, grab Pete's head and trip him down to the mat. I land on top of him with a headlock secured.

It's my turn to put my weight on Pete. I don't weigh as much as he does, but 250-lbs still makes me a heavyweight. I press my back down on his chest as I crank on his neck. I'm rewarded with grunts of frustration as Pete's surprised by my resilience. However, the big guy's not about to submit to a headlock, which he proves by grabbing the side of my trunks and rolling me over onto my shoulders.

In spite of having my feet and ass in the air, I maintain my grip until Pete slugs my back and I lose it. I roll over and plant my feet. Pete scrambles to his knees, but speed is not one of his advantages. By the time he's up, I've got him measured and I'm already moving. I crash into Pete, chest-to-chest, with all my weight, toppling him over onto his back.

I grab his arm for one of my submission moves, but Pete recovers faster than most guys after being rammed by 250-lbs of muscle. Before I can lock on the arm hold, he's rolling over. I slide off and out of the way before he can mount me. I know if Pete gets on top of me, it'll probably be over. I act like I'm rising, leading Pete to do the same. As soon as he's on his feet, I sweep my leg, tripping him back to the mat.

With Pete on his ass, I grab his ankle and lift. I twist the big guy's leg, putting pressure on his knee. I need to slow Pete down and this is the best way to do it. My beefy opponent realizes it, too, which is why he fights to stop me. Pete manages to get his other foot up and kick my pec hard. I fall back, losing my grip.

I quickly move to a crouch. Pete swings around, facing me on hands and knees. He looks like a bulldog in his defensive posture. We swat hands, looking for a lock up. I leap up and manage to get on top of Pete. I struggle to topple him. He supports my weight, even after I rise up and slam my butt into his back. I'm stymied on what to do, but Pete takes the decision out of my hands.

The beefy stud under me grabs my ankle and spins, toppling me down and rolling on top of me. Uh oh. Instead of trying a body scissor, I decide it’s better to just not be under him at all. I squirm out from under him, but Pete manages to pin one of legs down by planting a knee on my left inner thigh. He grabs my right leg, lifts and locks it behind his head. When he falls back, he scissors my left leg. In mere seconds, I'm trapped in a killer banana leg split. I'm flexible for a big man, but this still hurts.

My groin stretches wide as Pete pulls my legs apart with his legs and neck. I moan in pain as I feel the strain. Unfortunately, Pete has a free hand. He pats my balls as he tears my leg muscles. I feel his hand slide under the leg hole of my trunks and grip my balls. The big man doesn't crush me, but he does apply an uncomfortable level of pressure. I grunt as he manipulates my balls, while still pulling down on my legs.

Pete asks, "Wanna give? I got you!"

"No!"

Pete says, "C'mon, don't make me squeeze them any harder. I love your balls. I want them in working order after the match. Just give."

I use Pete's chatter to get in position. In response to his offer, I push up, rolling over Pete and planting my feet. His grip slips from my thighs to my calves. I punch Pete's gut and his hand slides out of my trunks. I stagger forward, breaking free. I’m impressed with myself for the move, as I stumble then get to my feet. I pause to adjust my pouch. So while I feel good, having escaped, Pete focuses, knowing that this match isn't over.

Behind me, Pete's up as fast as he can go. He grabs me in a reverse bearhug, squeezing hard. I've managed to avoid him getting near my core, but here we are again. I struggle to pry his arm free then I try to push him backwards into the wall. Pete's weight and leverage stops me at every counter. I'm growing weaker as he keeps up the pressure.

Next thing I know, Pete's lifting me off my feet. I brace my feet on his knees as he holds me aloft. I feel him crushing my torso as I moan. I'm going limp in his arms and he feels it. When he tosses me up and down, I flop with each move. I'm helpless in his powerful grip.

Fortunately, I'm still a big man, so Pete can't hold me up for long. Unfortunately, he doesn't just set me down. He spins and slams me down, front first on the mat. The big man comes down with me, crushing me under his 300-lbs. I'm stunned and out of air as he rides me. The big man sits up then drives his ass into my lower back.

I struggle to move, but he’s got me good. Pete tries to grab my arms for a camel clutch, but I keep them away from him. He’s not stopped for long, though. The big man grabs the back of my mask and leans back, pulling my head up fast and hard. The seams strain, but hold as my chest rises up. I reach for the mask as it presses into my face.

WHAM! Without warning, Pete leans forward, driving my face into the mat. I’m completely stunned by the move, giving Pete time to stand up and circle my body. He kneels down with one knee across my neck. I feel him lean forward, increasing the pressure, but what’s he’s really doing is grabbing my ankle and lifting it up. Pete brings my leg over his shoulder and neck, bending me in half.

I’m caught in the killer combination of a Japanese leg split, held down by his knee and folded like a single leg crab. My back, knee and neck are all screaming for relief. I hold on, trying to swing my free leg up and trying to press out with my arms, but it’s no use. Pete’s locked in and I’m not moving him.

I cry out, “Give, give, give!”

Pete lets go. I writhe on the mat, still pinned by his knee across my neck. He asks, “We done? Or you want more?”

I moan, “Done.”

“Good, you won’t be needing these then.” Pete reaches for my trunks and peels them off my defeated body, exposing my ass. I lie there, in just my Bane mask, rubbing my back. Pete kicks me onto back. I look up at him, swinging my trunks on his finger as he towers over me, foot resting on my chest.

“What ever should I do with you now, buddy boy?”

The Price of Defeat

Pete steps over me then drops down, pinning my shoulders down with his knees. The big man straddles my chest in victory. I couldn’t move him, even if I wanted to. I'm too tired and beaten. He looks down at me, smiling an evil grin. He has something in mind, I can tell. His trunks are tented like crazy. Pete is really getting off on this and he has something up his sleeve. Up to now, he's always been a bossy bottom, but he was clearly my henchman. Now, here I am, masked as Bane, pinned and helpless.

As though reading my thoughts, Pete says, "Doesn't really seem right, this position, does it?" I wonder if he's about to climb off me, but he's not.

Pete pulls my head up and reaches under my mask. I feel him undoing the lace in back, as he slips the knot free. He slowly and methodically loosens the thin cord that keeps the mask on. When he's pulled it enough, Pete grabs the top and yanks. It's still tight as he fights to pull it off my head. I can't resist as he manhandles my head, pulling the mask free and exposing my face.

Pete smirks, holding my mask. He says, "That's better." I look at him without saying anything, letting him enjoy his moment. Pete keeps playing with my mask, opening the laces and testing the stretch. He seems fascinated by it. When it's wide open, Pete surprises me.

Pete actually pulls my Bane mask over his head. It takes a little work, but the mask slides over his face. I watch him adjust it, the loose lace casually falling over his shoulder. Finally, Pete rolls off me. He stands up and extends a hand. I take it and he helps me up. Before I can say anything, the beefy stud turns his back on me.

Pete orders, "Lace up my mask."

I obey without really thinking. It's somewhat embarrassing losing to Pete, but now, standing here, stripped naked, having to lace up my own mask on him, it's a new level of humiliation. When I finish, he turns to me showing off his new look. He pushes me back then flexes and poses, forcing me to look at him.

As I stand there naked, hands resting on my hips, I'm breathing hard. I'm sweaty and my back, neck, pecs and abs all hurt. Even after a total defeat, I still feel a little better mentally. I'm not exactly ready to hug it out, but ... well, I don't know what I'm feeling right now.

Pete is still showing off in his gear, celebrating his dominance. My mask and his trunks make a nice combination, but I can't really appreciate it at the moment. My mind wanders until Pete takes a step forward. In response, I instinctively take a step back.

I can't see Pete's face, but I'm guessing he noticed and didn't like it.

It Ain't Over 'Til the Big Heel Says So

Pete moves in close, drops his arms from the flex then thrusts a fist into my gut. He grabs my head and forces me to turn around as he bends my head back under his armpit. I'm quickly locked in a standing reverse headlock, my feet on the mat, my back arched and arms hanging down. It's definitely painful as I reach up, grabbing Pete's thick arm for support. He cranks back on my neck, elevating my chest.

When my chest goes up, Pete's forearm comes down across it. I stagger and one of my knees folds, but the tight hold on my head forces to me back up to standing. Pete does it again, bend, forearm smash, pull. I struggle for freedom, but I can't manage to escape. Pete reaches forward and rubs my chest, playing with my nipple. Even though I'm in pain, my nipples are still sensitive. I moan and my cock stiffens.

The new Bane says, "That's what I like. Yeah, look at that big jobber dick."

Pete lifts a foot and plants it behind my knee, forcing me down. He quickly drops down, keeping my head locked down. Now in a kneeling dragon sleeper, Pete continues to rub my body, keeping the pressure tight, but not tight enough to put me out. My cock is 3/4 hard at this point and standing pretty high.

The new Bane says, "Want me to knock you out, big boy?"

Into his armpit, I moan, "No."

"Aw, you're no fun. I could do it, you know. It'd be easy." Pete tightens his grip then says, "But I won't … if you submit again."

I immediately grunt, "I give."

Pete lets the dragon sleeper go, unwrapping his arm and pushing me forward onto my stomach. He rolls up and kicks my legs apart. He straddles my waist and sits down. The next thing I know, I'm being pulled up into a camel clutch. I groan in agony as I'm stretched back mercilessly. My big chest lifts off the mat, my hips pinned by 300-lbs of Pete. My semi-hard cock is squeezed under me, the head just popping out as my torso lifts up.

The new Bane says, "Gonna give?"

All I can say is, "Yes, I give!"

Pete loosens up on the hold, but doesn't release me. He wraps his arms around my head in a sleeper. He asks, "Sure you don't want me to knock you out?"

I quickly say, "I'm sure. Please."

"Fine, but I think you owe me an apology, don't you?"

"Okay, okay, 'pologize. Please. UNH."

“You gonna listen when I’m talking?”

“Yeah.”

"Good, because now we both know I'll kick your spectacular ass." I'm in real pain, even though Pete doesn't have full pressure on.

I say, "Please. Let ... down."

"In a minute. Always in a hurry. Who's the real Bane around here?"

I moan, "You."

"That's right. And don't you forget it."

Pete finally lets me down. My back is in spasms as I lie there. Pete kicks me over then kneels beside me. He puts one finger on my chest and starts counting. With his free hand, he pulls my face to look at his masked face. He counts to ten uninterrupted. I could have lifted my shoulder, but I can’t take any more tonight. My back and abs are wrecked. I just need some rest and relaxation.

However, Pete has other plans before I'm doing anything.

Wrestlers with Benefits

I lie there, naked, covered in sweat and body aching. I'm disappointed by losing the fight, but embarrassed at losing my mask. Especially to Pete. I was distracted and unfocused, but he genuinely overpowered me and kicked my ass. Now, I need to pay up. The new Bane looks down at me lying there. Tonight is the first time I've ever been on this side of that mask. It's powerful and intimidating, with red eyes and full-face coverage. On top of Pete's thick body, the one that just dominated my muscle, it's even more daunting.

Pete stands over me. He lifts his foot and fondles my balls and cock with his toes. The burly heel rubs my dick with the balls of his feet, massaging my cock. I'm not used to being on this side of things. I didn't ever seriously wrestle when I was out-of-shape and I haven't lost since I got in shape. I always assumed I could beat Pete, but here we are. My mask is on his head and my manhood is under his foot.

In spite of (or maybe because of) the circumstances, my dick grows to full mast. Wrestling, masks and domination get me hard, hot and horny, apparently even when I'm on the losing end of it. Pete's still my type, even moreso in confident victory. I love his beefy torso and thick legs, covered in sweat, pumped from tossing me around. Fuck, I really am hard, hot and horny.

The big man says, "Ooh, that dick looks ready. Get on your knees, it’s time to play."

The new Bane grabs a condom and tosses it at me. He starts to strip off his black trunks, but I move in. Pete lets me finish pulling them down, kneeling there before him. His stubby cock is standing straight out as he steps out of the black spandex trunks. I grab the trunks and start working my dick with them, powering myself, as I stare at Pete's naked (except for my mask) body.

As I kneel there, jerking with his discarded trunks, Pete lies down on his back, legs spread. I move in and try to roll him onto his stomach, but he says, "Oh no, I wanna see that pretty face, big boy."

I look him in the mask, nod and lift his thick tree trunk legs up against my chest. I slide the latex cover over my hard dick. I position myself, still as hard as a steel rod, looking down at the big man. I pause for a second, breathe deeply and admire Pete's body again.

The new Bane commands me to fuck him now. I obey. I slide my rigid cock into his eager hole, as I've done many times before, but never like this. I ride Pete's big ass hard. If there's one thing I know about him, he likes a rough fuck. The new Bane moans with pleasure as I pound my sheathed dick into his ass. I press my hands on his thick chest as I fuck him. Pete tells me to go faster, harder, to fuck that ass. On and on, he commands my performance, treating me like a puppet, but I'm not really listening, as my brain drowns everything out but the sensation of my dick pumping his hole.

I grip his pecs, sinking my hands into his flesh hard. I catch a glimpse of him lying back, hands behind his head, staring at me through the red eyes of the Bane mask. I know what that's like. When I look down, Pete pulls his hand up and grabs my chin. He forces me to look him in the mask as I fuck him. The new Bane wants me to remember who's in control, even though I'm on top. He holds my gaze as I start getting short of breath and my face contorts.

"Yeah, that's it. Gimme your cum, big boy. Shoot that load, boy!" It doesn't take long before I'm shooting my load as he keeps my stare fixed on his masked face. The release feels so amazing. When I'm drained, I slide my dick out and fall forward onto his chest. Pete caresses my head as I lie there on top of him.

Pete says, "Good boy. Doesn't that feel better?"

I don't respond, I just relax. Finally, I get the energy to stand up. I clean up a little using my trunks as a cum rag. Pete lies back and spreads his legs to get comfortable. After a few seconds, he sits up on his elbows and looks down at his hard cock, which I'm not servicing.

When I turn for the door, Pete finally says, in a surprised tone, "Dude, get down here. Fucking finish me off."

I hang my head. I step towards Pete. He says, "Get down here, sexy. I mean c'mon, boy." Without saying anything, I toss my trunks aside, standing naked in front of the reclining new Bane. I kneel down and move in between his thick legs. His stubby dick is rock hard, swollen and ready. I open my lips and take it, steadying myself by putting my hands on either side of his hips.

As I suck Pete's cock, I hear him moaning. I've sucked Pete many times over the past few months, so I know what he likes. He still barks commands between moans, but I'm pretty much on autopilot. I focus on the task at hand. Pete sits up, propping up on one hand. His free hand runs over my hair and rests on my head.

Pete starts saying, "Oh yeah, yeah, suck that dick, oh yeah, harder, suck it." Next thing I know, he's holding my face into his body hard, his cock lodged in my mouth. I reposition slightly to uncover my nose just in time. I'm still almost smothered as he unleashes his load down my throat. I dutifully swallow every drop that flows out, sucking out all I can.

When his cock softens and becomes sensitive, Pete pushes my head off him. He lies back satisfied. He looks up at me through the red eyes of my Bane mask. He says, "Awesome. We should re-create this in our new wrestling company. If I kick your ass and steal your mask, it'll set the tone early. Imagine, me as the lead heel. Fuck yeah."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but I don't bother to ask him. After a communal shower, Pete insists on giving me a rub down. It does feel good. As I lie there, being massaged, I realize that I need to think about my life and I can’t do that here. I really like Pete, but he’s lost the objectivity he used to have. I grab my stuff and leave Pete’s. He asks me to stay, but I beg off. We kiss good night and I hop in my car, driving into the night.

The Next Day

So, on top of everything, I had a crap day at work today. The project I’m working on is screwed and I’m in for a series of 14-hour days to fix it. On the personal front, I’ve decided I’m going to start deciding and announcing, rather than asking and listening.

As I think about the two men in my life, it is possible that Pete's become even more oblivious to my feelings than Cody ever was. He left me a weird voicemail wanting to know if I’m moving in and when he should tell Voldemort that I'm selling. What? Moving? Selling? Who the hell is Voldemort and what's he buying from me?

I obviously need to slow things down and reframe our relationship back to the way things were. We're friends, but no more. To that end, I decide to ignore Pete’s calls until I can next talk to him face-to-face. As for Cody, I need to resolve that once and for all, too.

I don't get out of work until late, almost midnight. I really need to clear my head. I decide to work out, but it's 11:57pm. Of course, I joined the one gym in L.A. that isn't open 24 hours, because Cody, whose day job is a personal trainer, didn't know anyone there and I was keeping my workouts a secret. Now, like many of my decisions, it's biting me in the ass.

Ugh, I'm frustrated, but then I remember that I have the keys to the local fed's ring that we use for The Cave. They've got a couple of rickety old cardio machines, free weights and even jump ropes and a heavy bag. I just need to do something physical. I know it will do me good to punch the bag or run on the elliptical.

When I arrive, I pull up to the side door where the gym equipment is, unlock the door and walk inside. I strip down and slip on my jock, socks and shoes. No point in worrying about shorts or a shirt, I'm alone and I'd rather be naked. I'll put a towel down if I sit on the bench and clean up when I'm done.

By 12:18am, I'm ready to do cardio warmup, but the machines are locked. Fuck. I could just jump rope, but instead, I decide to hunt for keys in the office. I head into the hall, surprised that the lights are on. The ring area is dark and every door is closed. The place is empty and quiet. Wasteful. Anyway, I open up the office and start looking for keys.

Being alone in the office, doing a mundane task gives me clarity. I feel like things come into focus when you have a distraction. I find the keys quickly and take it as a good sign. Maybe my luck is changing and things will really turn around.

I smile, optimistic for the first time. I head out of the office, raring to go.

The End