Story Preview: December 2019 (WARNING: SPOILERS)

2019 comes to a close. If you want to be spoiled on how I'm wrapping up the year, click. If not, STAY AWAY!

We've got a wide range this month with three different series and two different universes! The first story is one that convinced me I couldn't handle commissions any more. The second story is the fourth part in a three-part story ... I just can't quit these guys. And the final story keeps a Christmas tradition going with Toyboy jumping in for the third year in the row.

12/1: CLAW 8: Koke vs. Hollywood

Koke, Hollywood

Ben is getting his guys to branch out. Ryker loved his trip to Xenia OH to wrestle at Riot Pro Wrestling, so naturally his buddy Koke thought he'd try it out. Does magic strike twice or do things go south between the boss of Riot and the young rookie?

Riot Pro Wrestling. Dublin OH.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely one of Ben’s boys.”

“Ben’s boys? What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

I frown as the veteran pro wrestler and promoter smirks at me. Yeah, he’s right. I know exactly what it means, but I don’t really like it. I’m standing here in Dublin OH where the Riot Pro Wrestling is being held. I'm getting ready to show what I can do and the boss says something like that? Makes me wonder if he’s serious about giving me a shot or just playing around.

The boss goes by Hollywood. He’s hot as fuck for a guy in his late-30’s, decked out in black pro trunks, pads and boots. He’s a handsome white pro wrestler, clocking in around 5’10”/190-lbs of solid muscle. Hollywood is rocking a fake tan and perfect white teeth. He lives up to his name, so fuck him. He’s more of a prettyboy than me.

My buddy Ryker loved Hollywood when he was up at Riot's home base in Xenia last week. Talked about him non-stop when he got back. That’s why when my main boss Ben suggested I wrestle at some new places to build my profile and experience, I asked about Riot. Now, I’m not so sure it was the right call, because when he says ‘one of Ben’s boys’, it’s not a compliment.

I’m Koke, a rookie pro wrestler, mostly wrestling for the Championship League of American Wrestling. It’s based out of Arlington Virginia, run by Ben. He’s 26, handsome, rich and ripped. And smart. He’s built CLAW from basically nothing into a hot new promotion. It’s getting a lot of respect for high-quality wrestling and the more experienced guys are getting big opportunities.

That’s all awesome, but what Hollywood is referring to is CLAW’s other reputation. Ben has a high standard for wrestling, but he has an even higher standard for the wrestlers. He wants guys that will draw crowds and get attention online. We’re known for having the hottest guys in indie wrestling. We all wear trunks and have muscle and looks. A few internet trolls and jealous podcasters have called us the Chippendales of wrestling.

And that’s what Hollywood means by ‘one of Ben’s boys’. He sees my big muscles, handsome face, flawless skin and gelled jet-black hair and wonders if I’m more model than wrestler. Yeah, I’m 20 with a smooth, gym-built body in tight white pro wrestling trunks and white pro boots. I’m hot, but I’m not some wimpy fashion model. I’m a real fucking stud in the ring and if I have to prove it to this bastard or anyone else, I will.

Hollywood circles me, “Don’t be touchy, kid. I just meant -”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

12/15: Bane of my Existence 4

Crush, Crash, Bane, Superman, Batman, Nightwing

This actually started as a one-part story I wrote for a real-life roleplay friend, but I felt like I left it hanging. I plotted out two more chapters, but I kept adding details and it kept expanding. I promise that I know how it all ends. Is this where that happens? That is something that I won't spoil.

Chapter 1: Crush

“Congratulations, boys. You have your first taste of being winners. Let there be no doubt that we own these three. And this is just the beginning.”

Crash and me smile broadly as we stand before our boss. We’re mostly naked, sweaty and pumped. And I’ve never felt more energized than I do right now. I’ve been a henchmen for years, working for Two-Face and The Riddler, two of Gotham City’s elite villains. Fucking losers. Now, I’m Crush. Henchman for Bane. The new king of Gotham City. And this is a brand new experience for me.

Victory.

Sure, I’ve experienced some small wins and temporary success, but this feels different. Bane is different. He isn’t careless enough to let the heroes escape. He isn’t going to make some fatal error in judgment. He isn’t going to get tripped up by some weird personality trait. He’s not going to get outsmarted, out-muscled or out-worked. This is complete and total domination of three of the world’s greatest heroes. And it’s just the beginning.

I sneak a look at the kneeling men in front of us. Bane’s in front of them and we’re behind. And those are some behinds. Fuck. How the mighty have fallen. Batman willingly knelt before the boss, his mind warped by drugs. Crash and me just plowed the helpless Nightwing from both ends. And while Superman is still defiant, our boss had still fucked him like the bitch he is. It’s only a matter of time before he’s broken.

My phone vibrates. I reluctantly look at it. “Boss. The team is outside.”

“Already? Eager. I like that. Go. Usher them into our new home.”

Bane dismisses us, but Crash hesitates. Fuck, I get it. His experience working for the Penguin makes him nervous about leaving the boss alone with three dangerous heroes. But like I said, Bane isn’t an idiot. And he doesn’t like doubters. I told Crash he needed to get the faith. I put my big hand on his bicep and pull him. He moves right away, but it’s too late.

Bane notices the hesitation. “Is there something wrong, Crash?”

I can tell that the stocky muscleman’s mind is racing to explain his hesitation in a way that didn’t suggest he thought that Bane couldn’t handle the situation. Crash probably knows intellectually that Bane a badass, instincts are hard to change. Now, his instincts have put him in a bad position and I gotta save him.

12/25: Bird Boy in "The Bird Cage"

Bird Boy, Toyboy

On Christmas Day, we get another round of Toyboy's assault on the heroes of The Cave. First, he took down The Bat and SuperStar. Then he tracked them down and used Killer Croc and Python to take them down again. Now, he's got a new toy in his sights, but will this one play along or will he turn the tables on the twink bondage master?

“Hello, Bird Boy.”

I turn around, surprised to hear someone call me by my alter ego name. I’m Xaq, a champion bodybuilder, champion wrestler and the biggest star in both those worlds. Yeah, I play Bird Boy for The Cave, a gay wrestling video company. And I’m dressed like Bird Boy, but that’s just because my boss Cody told me to. He said this was important for my training.

I’m already the best wrestler in The Cave, but wrestling is like bodybuilding. You have to work at it every day to stay on top. Cheat days and ‘off-season’ are just lies to help losers with no self-discipline live with themselves. I never stop being perfect. Never. I know you have always keep working if you want to keep it that way. That’s why I’m a two-sport champion.

Cody knows it, too. He’s old, so he’s been around a while and knows some things. I kind of trust the guy. He’s a decent trainer and a pretty good guy once you get to know him. That’s why, even though I’m unbeatable, I still show up where and when I’m told to. Just so I can get better. Not because I take orders from any man. I make the rules.

Someone steps out of the shadows and I jump. A little. I’m not scared. Just anxious to start doing whatever this training is. When I recognize the guy, I relax. “Oh, it’s just you. Hey Winston, what’re you doing here? And what is this place? Where’s the ring?”

“Call me Toyboy, Bird Boy. This is my playroom. The Bat thought you’d benefit from a more immersive training experience.” The little guy moves in close. He puts his gloved hand on my big bare pec and pats it. “No ring today. We’ll be wrestling on the mat.”

“We? Like you and me?”

I laugh, because he must be joking. I’m a 5’11”/205-lbs impossibly ripped and powerful muscle monster. They call me a muscle freak and they’re right. He’s 5’9”/150-lbs. He’s got big hands, feet and dick, but his muscles are so small I’d need one of those things that lets you see tiny things. Like a magnifying glass. No, a microscope! That’s it. I’d need a microscope.

Toyboy here couldn’t hurt me with a sledgehammer. I do have a match coming up with another little guy. Maybe that’s what this is. Letting me practice beating on a skinny wimp to perfect how to humiliate them. Okay, if Cody convinced this guy to be my wrestling dummy, I’m cool with that. I can see the hottest and most painful ways to bend a lightweight.

The skinny wimp slides his hand down my abs. It feels good. He stares into my eyes and I stare back. He’s so into me. Duh, of course he is. Every guy is into me. Now I wonder if Cody is maybe rewarding me for being so kickass lately? I’m not into twinks, but I’d fuck this one. He’s got a sexy personality with all the bondage and sex toy shit he does in the ring.

I ask, “So, is this like a reward for me or training? Cody didn’t tell me anything.”

“Who’s Cody? If you mean The Bat, you can ask him after we’re finished.”

Fuck, he takes this play shit seriously. Okay, I can do that. I tell him, “You know what? It can be both, right? If you want me to squash and fuck you, I’m in. Toyboy.”

Enjoy!

Alex