AMU 200: NEXTGEN

San Diego CA. 21 Years from Now.

“Wow. What’s it called, Jody?”

“World’s Finest.”

“It’s ... it’s amazing. Your fathers are going to love it. And it’s a real sculpture by Shaka?” I nod. Miles shakes his head, “The guy’s amazing and blowing up. His stuff is going to be worth a lot.”

“Already is. Just since I’ve been working for him, prices have gone up ten-fold, he moved into this fancy gallery and his work is global now. I got him at just the right time.”

Me (Jody).

Miles puts his hand on my bare shoulder and squeezes. It feels nice. We met at a student council meeting in January and have grown close over the past few months. We’re not really serious, yet, but I can see us getting there one day. I really like him. And he looks so sexy, wearing the western outfit I got him for his birthday last week. Everyone at the gallery has been admiring him in it, even though he’s oblivious to their stares.

Miles.

“Stand beside it, Jody.” I move into place as my kind-of-boyfriend winks, activating his ocular holoscope. Miles circles me and the sculpture. When he’s done, he moves his fingers and the 3D memorygram floats between us from the glove on his right hand. “Perfect. You and a Shaka original. Two gorgeous works of art.”

I blush, “Thanks, Miles. Send me that.”

I just finished my freshman year at San Diego A&M. I earned a 3.8 GPA while redshirting as a tracker for the hoverball team. Plus, I worked for Shaka for free on nights and weekends as a stock boy to earn the sculpture. It was exhausting but worth it. My dad worked three jobs before he made it big and even after he did, he kept hustling and grinding. I can’t do any less.

Shaka and I met at the gym. I played it cool but was able to subtly inspire him with my stories about my fathers. The deal was my muscle for his genius. We did hit a roadblock when he learned that my fathers are Cody McCoy and Jae Park. He doesn’t work with famous people. Luckily, I was able to convince him that he was working with me and I’m a nobody.

I grew up knowing my fathers are basically superheroes. Now, I can give them something that shows how much I love them. I know, I know. There’s no such thing as superheroes and a lot of kids think that their parents are heroes. Maybe but mine are as close to super as humanly possible. Shaka captured their essence perfectly. Bold, brilliant, strong and full of love.

Miles says, “Okay, should we load it up? You bought something truly amazing.”

I joke in a snooty voice, “Commissioned, my dear Miles. Not bought. Commissioned.”

SNORT!

I hear the rude sound of derision from the big hairy guy looking around the gallery. I’m a solid 6’2”/240 but he’s bigger at 6’7”/290. He’s a muscular bruiser but he must have some money and taste if he’s browsing here. And he’s in the latest designer fashion - stylish Max Maxwell black pro wrestling tights with a gold dragon design on the leg and matching long black vest with a Verucci mask. The long-haired furry beast looks like he just stepped off the docks but his wrestling gear is right off the runways of Milan.

Bruiser.

The guy is bigger and older than me but I’m not going to let him snort at me. I puff out my chest and ask confidently, “Excuse me? Did you say something?”

Big burly guy runs his tongue inside his mouth before finally deciding to answer me. He snarls in a gruff voice, “Yeah. I was just laughing at a snot-nosed little trust fund brat being so proud about how he’s spending daddy’s money.”

My eyes narrow, but Miles steps forward first. He’s a junior at SDA&M, 20, 6’4”/230-lbs and a rising pro wrestler. He’s not intimidated by this guy. “Listen, jackass, Jody’s no trust fund brat. He earned a full college scholarship through hard work and he got this by working here.”

“As what? Shaka’s butt boy? Don’t play poor with me. I grew up poor, back when college wasn’t free for everyone. You think I don’t recognize his gear? Xaq Blaq originals. And this little cowboy suit you got on? Ferrara, ain’t it? Yeah, you two are real charity cases.”

Huh, the bruiser knows his fashion. My designer pro trunks and boots were a high school graduation gift from my Uncle Xaq, the owner of Xaq Blaq, the leading pro wrestling design house. Uncle Xaq rode the pro wrestling wear trend to the top of the fashion world. My gear would be expensive at retail. I could explain that I didn’t buy them but fuck him. This bohunk bruiser has no right to judge me and I don’t need to explain myself to him.

Now, I wish I’d just ignored his ignorant ass.

Miles isn’t giving up, “Fuck you. Jody works his -”

The huge asshole interrupts, “I don’t give a shit about his life story. Or yours, cowboy. Now, you -” He abruptly stops.

The bruiser looks past us. I notice his muscles tense and I suddenly sense trouble. That’s when I notice the folding chair beside him. The gallery doesn’t have seats like that for customers. I should know, I hauled enough of them during events. This one is made of lightweight unbreakable synthenium. That’s a military-grade chair. How the fuck did it get in here?

Before I can figure it out, the big bruiser kicks under the seat of the synthenium chair folding it up into a weapon. SNAP! I grab Miles and spin us around, defending him as it comes down hard across my back instead of his head. BANG! I feel pain spread through my muscles and I’m propelled forward. We fall, with me landing on top of my kind-of-boyfriend. SPLAT!

Luckily, he’s been trained to take the fall right, saving both of us. I moan, lying limp on top of him. Miles asks, “Holy fuck. Are you okay?”

The security guard yells over towards us, “HEY! What’s going on?”

I grit my teeth and power through the pain as Miles rubs my back. My dad is a great wrestler and taught me how to take a chair shot. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, especially from a military-grade chair. Whoever this guy is, he’s a serious asshole. That could’ve done some serious damage. I want to get up and fight but Miles holds me, telling me to stay calm.

The security guard quickly moves towards us with his chair in hand. Behind him, I see four masked men in pro wrestler gear come into the gallery. One of them uses the distraction to charge the guard, striking the back of his head with a baton. WHACK! He drops down, unconscious. I realize that’s what we were. A distraction. Just the wrong place, wrong time.

The four new guys are all huge and muscular, too. Worse, they’re all armed – I see chains on their belts, synthenium knuckles on their hands, and two are gripping sledgehammers, one a baton and the other another freaking chair. They came ready for anything. I look around. Add it all up and they’re about to grab millions of dollars in art from a rising artist.

Leader.

The guy with the sledgehammer and big bushy beard yells, “EVERYBODY DOWN! NOW!” Must be the leader.

One of the other customers charges. He gets a sledgehammer to the abs then a DDT to the floor. THUD! CRACK! I can tell that he’s knocked out. Guess he’s not saving the day. The guy with the baton holsters it then grabs the guard’s ankles then drags the unmoving carcass out of the way of the door. The remaining three staff and two other customers drop to the floor.

“NOW, NOBODY ELSE TRY ANYTHING STUPID AND NO ONE ELSE WILL GET HURT.”

I look at Miles and he sees my look. He subtly shakes his head. I nod. He glares. I smile and nod. This weekend is my parent’s 20th wedding anniversary. I worked damn hard to get them something special and I’m not letting these assholes take it from me.

Miles whispers, “Insurance.”

I shake my head. It’s not a matter of money, especially since I didn’t pay for it. The sculpture is irreplaceable. Who knows if or when Shaka would make me another one?

I look around, analyzing the room. Miles grabs my head and forces me to look at him. He kisses me. One of the criminals notices, “Aw, the muscle boys are gonna fuck on the floor while we grab the art. Kinky little bitches.”

We enjoy the kiss but it’ll be over my dead body that I lose my sculpture.

Defending “World’s Finest”

I push up as fast as I can. I vault over the table at the closest guy, let’s call him Crook2. The guy is shocked - they all thought we’d stay down. Crook1 is the one who hit me. Leader is the guy who yelled. Crook2 is the other one with the folding chair. He instinctively holds it up to block me. I dropkick the back of the chair. BANG! The power of my leap sends the chair backwards, driving it into his face. CLANG! He staggers backwards, stunned. I try to rip his chair from his hands. He resists and it flies out of both our hands, sliding along the floor.

Crook2

Miles is up. He stops the sliding chair with his boot then picks it up. My buddy didn’t want this battle but I knew he’d have my back. He’s a good guy and a great guy to have in a fight. He knows how to wield a chair but it’s still five-on-two. All of them are a lot bigger than us. Maybe this was a mistake. No. I grew up around wrestling and I know how to handle myself.

No one is stealing my sculpture.

Crook2 charges at me. I lift my designer pro wrestling boot up and he runs right into it. THUD! OOF! The brute bends forward and I club him across the back. WHOMP! He drops to one knee. I step in but he fires a synthenium-knuckles fist into my abs. THUD! OOF! I feel it, taking a step back. He dives at me, spearing my abs and driving me backwards. WHOMP! OOF!

Leader yells, “You two, start grabbing the art. We’ll deal with these punks!”

With my hoverball training, I’m able to keep my feet under me but we move right into the pedestal with World’s Finest on it. We hit it then bounce to the left as Crook2 keeps trying to take me down. I see my statue wobbling and I scream, “NO!” Fortunately, Miles is there to steady it. Unfortunately, I see Leader move in on my kind-of-boyfriend with his sledgehammer.

I’m too distracted, worrying about the sculpture and Miles. Crook2 manages to lift me up onto his shoulder. He runs me into the nearest wall. CRASH! OOF! I feel the impact. He lets me go then pounds my bare abs with his synthenium knuckles. THUD! POW! THUD! I flex my abs but the synthetic metal breaks them down fast. I try to block the shots, using my hoverball fighting skills. POW! THUD! POW!

My washboard midsection turns red as he punishes my abs. THUD! POW! THUD! Ten feet away, Miles is in full defense mode, his chair against the leader’s sledgehammer. A folding chair will always win, especially in the hands of a guy who knows how to use it, but my kind-of-boyfriend is still fully occupied. POW! THUD! POW! I’m gonna have to save myself. THUD! POW! THUD! If I can avoid puking.

Crook2 suddenly throws a fist up across my jaw. CRACK! I was not expecting that and the blows stuns me. I sag weakly against the wall. It’s the only reason that I’m still standing. Being a hero is tougher than it looks. He pauses. He roughly grabs my chin, pushing my face to the side. He rubs my tender abs then punches me three more times with short quick strikes. THUD! POW! THUD! All I can do is take them.

The brutal muscleman mocks me, “Damn, muscleboy, I might just have to take ya with me. You and me could have a real good time.” I’m disgusted as his hand caresses my stomach then slides lower over my package. “Well, I will, at least.”

I moan as Crook2 feels me up. He squeezes my bulge. He laughs, “Yeah, you like that, don’t ya, muscleboy.” I squirm but he holds me in place by my chin and balls. The bastard takes his time, fondling me while his cohorts carry Shaka’s hard work right out the door. I’m not much of a hero. No, I am. I was raised by heroes and I’m not going to go down without a fight.

As my package is molested, I tighten my aching abs then throw myself forward, swinging an elbow. I land it on his temple. CRACK! Crook2 staggers backwards. I kick him in the abs and he bends forward. I lock him in a front facelock then immediately grab the side of his tights. I suplex him over. BOOM! He lands hard on the stonecrete floor, bridging up to relieve the pain.

I roll over and see his hands lying limp within reach. I tear the synthenium knuckles from him. I slide on top of him, smothering his face with my ass as I pin his shoulders down with my shins. It’s my turn to do some damage. I pound away on his abs, using his own weapons to break him down. THUD! POW! THUD! He gyrates and writhes as he cries out into my bubble butt. AH! I keep pounding away until I feel his abs giving. POW! THUD! POW!

I rise then drive a boot onto his meaty pecs. STOMP! Suddenly, a folding chair comes down hard onto my back. CLANG! I fly forward, over Crook2 and into the wall, face-first. CRASH! The edge of the chair slams into my lower back. STAB! AH! I hear Crook1 saying, “Getting to beat the shit out a brat like you is almost as good as the millions in art we’re stealing.”

Fuck, I thought he was helping steal the art. I kick back with a donkey kick, hitting his thigh. It doesn’t hurt him but it backs him away. I turn just as he’s coming at me again with the chair raised up and coming down towards my head. I reach up to block it, just in time to avoid getting knocked unconscious. I hold the top part as Crook1 tries to push it down. My muscles pump as I fight to save myself.

I’m quickly overpowered, dropped to one knee but I still manage to protect my head. My thick arms shake and Crook 1 smirks down at me, knowing he’ll get me eventually. With everything I’ve got, I push up. Crook1’s eyes go wide as I power up to standing. The chair hovers high again between us. Crook1 suddenly lifts his huge boot and kicks me in the stomach. OOF! He rips the chair from my hands.

Crook 1 winds up. I back up out of range, only to get locked into a full nelson by Crook2 who’s up and snuck behind me. Damn! Dad taught me how to handle cheating tag partners and I blew it. I fight the full nelson but he’s too strong. My stolen synthenium knuckles are useless with my hands high above my head. I keep trying to power out but I also need to pay attention to Crook 1.

When the thief with the chair moves in, I kick up, getting him right in the abs. WHOMP! OOF! He stumbles backwards. Right towards World’s Finest. NO! He stops before he hits it. PHEW! The big bruiser storms back at me, chair ready to smash onto my head. As he closes in, I summon all my power and skill. It’s now or never. UMPF!

At the last second, I power out of the full nelson and drop onto my ass. The synthenium chair crashes down onto Crook2’s head instead of mine. BANG! He immediately collapses to floor in a heap of unconscious muscle. Crook1 curses at his buddy’s stupidity, leaving him wide open for me to handstand kick up into his stomach. THUD! OOF! I scramble up to my feet.

Crook1 moves in, swinging his chair. I duck out of the way, slipping behind him. I give him two stiff shots to the kidneys. POW! POW! He stumbles forward, so I give him a boot to the ass which sends him flying into the wall. SPLAT! He drops the chair as he shakes out his head. I turn around to check on Miles. My kind-of-boyfriend is doing fine. He’s got Leader pinned in the corner and should take him out in a few more seconds. PHEW!

I see Crook3 and Crook4 carrying one of the larger sculptures out the front door. And World’s Finest is gone! Oh no! It must be on the truck. As I charge the front door, I yell at the manager, “Claude! Is community safety on the way?” He shakes his head, gripped by fear. One of the other customers waves his phone at me, signaling that he’s zinging them. Damn.

I burst out in the bright sun. The non-descript moving van is there, containing several pieces of stolen art. And World’s Finest. I charge at Crook3 (the other one with a sledgehammer). He raises it but I’m able to grab the handle before he can use it. We struggle for control, both of us gripping the handle for dear life. Damn, all these guys are so fucking strong.

Crook3

Crook4

We fight for control but he has an advantage. He’s not alone. Crook4 comes up behind me and hits me across the back of my head with his baton. CRACK! I almost lose consciousness, my hands falling from the sledgehammer as I fall into Crook3. He laughs as I hang onto his brown shoulders, desperately trying to keep from going out. I drop to my knees in front of him. PLOP!

My face rests against his big pouch. I can’t move. I can barely think. Crook3 pushes my head back and I look up his muscular torso. Even through blurry eyes, I can tell he’s smirking at me malevolently. My arms hang limp at my side as I feel Crook4’s baton press against the side of my face. I struggle to do something but it’s no use. I’m completely at their mercy.

Crook3 pulls my face back into his bulge and wipes it all over my face. My nose fills with his masculine musk as he dominates me. Crook4 slides his baton down my back then inside the waistband at the back of my trunks. It splits my crack as he toys with me.

“What should we do with muscleboy?”

“You heard Rocco. He’s too pretty not to keep. Throw his carcass in the truck with all the other dead weight.”

Sure enough, they grab under my armpits and toss me in the back of their van. I moan as I lie across the back of the truck, my right arm hanging out over the bumper. I feel their hands pushing me deeper inside but also copping feels of my thick muscles. Crook4 even squeezes my bubble butt, “Yeah, way too pretty. Look at this ass. Boy was born to be bred.”

I moan. Must be a little too loudly because Crook4 says, “I better give him another whack.”

CLANG! I hear the noise of metal on skull but I realize I’m still conscious. I fight to look out as I hear cursing. I look back and see Miles against sledgehammer dude. Miles! He’s come to save me.

I fight to help him. I push up and slide out of the van. I fall onto my ass on the pavement. PLOP! I have to help. I see Crook4. Unconscious. His baton. I grab for it. I push to rise. I get to my feet using the truck for support, baton in hand. I see Crook 1 and Crook 2 come out of the gallery. I yell to warn Miles but I’m too late. CLANG! He goes down to a vicious chair shot.

The three bruisers turn to me, smirking. Crook2 comes up to me. I swing the baton, flailing weakly. He dodges it and gives me a bare knuckles fist to my bulge. SQUISH! OOF! The low blow forces me to bend forward. Crook 2 lifts me over his shoulder. He slaps my ass cheek. SPANK! “Told ya I was gonna take ya with me. We’re gonna have lots of fun, muscleboy.”

I moan but summon my last remaining adrenaline. I throw an elbow into the back of his head. WHACK! He stumbles and I slide off to the side. Crook1 comes at me with his chair up but I manage to spin his dazed buddy in front of me, using him as a shield. Crook1 stops so I push Crook2 into him. He knocks his partner-in-crime out of the way and winds up again.

I manage to back up out of range but then I see Crook3 to my right, flanking me. Oh crap.

WOOO! WOOO! WOOO!

Sirens? The guys hear them, too. Crooks 1 and 3 scramble around to either side of the van. I lunge for Crook 3, who was going to the driver’s side. I tackle him down and we collapse onto the pavement. We grapple on the ground, the rough pavement scraping our bare flesh. I’m a good grappler but I’m still woozy. I manage to play defense, staying on top, using my weight to delay him. He needs to escape; I only need to hold him for a few more seconds.

Crook1 circles back around, realizing his buddy is in trouble. I feel his hands on my arm, trying to pull me off Crook3. I swing wildly, forcing him back. I’m just trying to keep them from getting away. Crook 3 tries to roll away but I dive on him. I grab him around the neck in a rear naked choke. Crook1 is back so I roll us onto my back with his buddy on top of me as a shield.

I add on a body scissors and hold Crook3 in place. Crook1 tries to pull the arms open. Crook 2 is there. He joins in, trying to open my legs. Together, they hit me but all they can reach is thick muscle. I might bruise but I can take it. They fight to pry my hold off as Crook3 struggles. My sides get kicked. WHOMP! WHOMP! Nope, I ignore the pain. The sirens are real close now.

Crook2 says, “Why’re we bothering? My fingerprints will run the truck!”

Crook1 says, “Why the fuck didn’t you say so! Let’s go!”

There truly is no honor among thieves as Crook3 reaches out from his trapped position and trips Crook2 to the pavement. SPLAT! He says, “You ain’t leaving me, you fucking bastards!”

Crook2 scrambles up but it’s too late. Community safety is here!

The Day is Saved!

Miles is conscious and has been treated. My scrapes are sanitized. Shaka has arrived. At first, he’s ecstatic at being robbed, taking it as a sign that he’s truly arrived as an artist. I hear Claude whispering to inform him that that’s not the most appropriate response. He explains how Miles and I saved the day and Shaka comes up and gives us both a big hug.

The artist declares that he won’t charge me for World’s Finest. I remind him that he didn’t, I worked for it, but he heads off looking at the pieces being unloaded off the truck, making sure they’re fine. The crooks have all been rounded up and our statements are taken.

The safety liaison chastises me for being reckless and endangering not only myself, but Miles and everyone else in the gallery. I just nod, my eyes locked on World’s Finest resting behind him. It’s beautiful and undamaged. I smile. No real-life superheroes? Ha. I think Miles and I were pretty damn super today.

At the end of his lecture, the man asks me, “Why did you do it, kid!”

I look up, “It’s how I was raised.”

Later. McCoy Manor.

“Jody! What on earth were you thinking?”

I sheepishly smile, “Hey, dad.”

My dad pulls me into a big welcome home hug, “Oh, Jody. Do you have any idea how badly you could have been hurt? Or worse? I’m not ready to lose my favorite son!”

I’m his only son, but he always calls me that. He squeezes me even tighter than usual. I’m forty pounds heavier, thirty years younger and a lot stronger but my body instinctively relaxes and lets him move me like I’m 8 instead of 18. I whine like I’m 8, too, as he playfully rubs my head, “Daaaad! Come on. I’m a man in college now. Stop treating me like a little kid.”

We break the hug, “No, that is something I will never do, son.” Dad shakes his head, “Man, that does take me back. You sound just like your Uncle Xaq when he was around your age. He used to say, ‘Cody, I’m not a little kid’. I didn’t stop with him, so you’ve got no shot, son.”

My pop asks, “So, you’re really okay?”

“I really am.”

Dad smiles, “Can you believe our son the hero, Jae?”

Pop laughs, “Of course, I can, Cody. Look who his father is. This is your fault, you know.”

“How is this my fault?”

“You and your Batman stories. He thinks you two are Bruce and Damian Wayne.”

I chime in, “Well, Dad is a billionaire who likes to play dress up.”

“No, no, no. Don’t pin your recklessness on me, son. I make exercise videos, equipment and supplements. I help people fight deadly diseases. I don’t risk my life against armed criminals.”

“But you would have. Both of you would have done exactly the same thing.”

My dad waves it off like he always does when someone else is right, “Anyway, you’re safe. Your friend Miles is safe?” I nod. “He’s coming to the party tomorrow?” I confirm it. “Good. All right. So, tell me about your plans for the summer.” He smirks, “And tell me about your plans for your friend Miles.”

Pop heads out, leaving Dad and me to talk. He always says that pop and me are all that matters in his life and I feel that, even as busy as he is. When I was a baby, he discovered a new diet and exercise plan that revolutionized the fitness industry. Now, CodyCo is a health empire. He’s my hero. Well, both my fathers are. Pop’s charity work has made a huge difference in the lives of so many people. They’re a real power couple.

About 30-minutes later, Dad and me are still talking when I hear a familiar voice call for us from the hall, “CODY? JAE? JODY?”

My dad yells, “IN THE STUDY, RY!” He smiles at me, “Sounds like your godfather is here.”

“I can hear that, dad.”

Dad’s best friend Ryan comes in. He gives me a huge bearhug. I’m a big boy but Ryan is even bigger than me (6’4”/270-lbs) and all muscle. My dad and Ryan are more like brothers than friends and I’m closer to him than anyone else outside my fathers. Even through his three marriages and three divorces, he’s never stopped being here for me.

I ask, “Where are my little brothers?” I’m talking about his sons. Liam is 16, Rory is 12 and Bryan is 6. We’re technically not related, but they’re just like family.

Uncle Ryan explains, “In the kitchen unloading stuff for the party tomorrow night. They’re so excited to see you. You know how they all look up to you.”

The three of us start talking and laughing immediately. Now that I’m 18, I finally feel like I’m one of the guys. Uncle Ryan asks me about dating and I tell him about Miles. Nothing serious, but I’m definitely into him. I ask him about his own romantic situation and he hedges, saying he’s taking it slow. His latest divorce is still raw. He really thought things would work out this time.

My dad says, “If he’d listened to me, he wouldn’t need to be dating. Or paying three exes alimony.” Ryan gives him a nasty glare then they start wrestling. Just like old times.

Ten minutes later, pop rejoins us with Uncle Ryan’s sons. I get big hugs and bombarded with questions. They’re staying over tonight so we’ll be hanging out. Then tomorrow is the big celebration. It’s our annual spring party but this year, it’s also their 20th anniversary and my return from college. It’ll be packed with over 500 family, friends and acquaintances.

Bryan grabs my hand and I let him pull me to the pool. The little kid shows off how well he can swim now. Liam tells me about who he’s dating, acting cool but also looking for advice without asking for it. Rory does wild cannonballs, trying to splash us. I really missed this.

The Next Night. 11:00pm.

“Hey, Miles, what’s going on? What’re you doing in here all alone?”

“Oh, hey, Jody. Just taking a break and snooping. Congratulations on the gift. ‘World’s Finest’ was the hit of the party.” I blush. It did go well. Everyone was so impressed and my dad actually teared up. “Your fathers are so nice. And they have a real old school pro wrestling ring in their house. These ropes are actual wrapped steel cables. That is so cool.”

“Yeah, they’re big into wrestling and they say the new rings don’t have the same sound or feel. Dad is in here practically every day and pop pretty often, too.”

“Wow, at their age? Good for them. They both look great in their formal wrestling gear. I have to say that they’re a real couple of DIL -” I make a face and Miles stops, remembering that he’s talking about my fathers. I really don’t want to hear that my kind-of-boyfriend wants to fuck them.

Miles changes the subject, “I met Jeff Case out there. The best wrestler EVER. At your party! I loved him since I was a kid. I accidentally blurted out that I’d love to face him one day. God, I was so embarrassed but he was really nice about it.”

“Yeah, Uncle Jeff is awesome. Still does the best mic work in the business. And you never know, he might take you up on that offer. Dad says that he's always open for business.”

“Oh, man. That would be insane. I remember being 8 and watching him lose the AWL world title to XXXander. I seriously cried.” Miles turns back to the ring and pulls on the middle rope. He says, “I really wanna try it out. How about you and me, going at it in a real old-fashioned ring?”

I move in and hug him around the waist, “I think that can be arranged.”

“I mean now.”

I hesitate, “There are hundreds of people still here. Including all four of my grandparents, my uncles, my cousins, my dad’s business partners. If anyone walked in while we were ... you know.”

“We’re just wrestling, what’s the big deal? I saw tons of gear in the locker room if you don’t want to get your fancy party gear dirty.”

I frown, “Oh, you really mean wrestling.”

Miles smirks, “Yeah, you horny slut, I really mean wrestling. Now who's always open for business? You know I’m serious about practicing. I have my big CLAW tryout coming up in three weeks.”

“For my Uncle Ben.”

“You have a surprisingly large number of uncles. I feel like I’ve met like 30, just tonight.”

“Well, yeah. If it matters, only three by blood? The rest are play uncles.”

“They’re all so cool. No wonder you grew up to be so incredible.”

I blush, “I just happened to grow up surrounded by a ton of amazing men and called them all uncle. Back to Ben. He’s really great. First investor in dad’s idea. All this? My dad’s hard work backed by Ben’s money. Fun fact, he’s tried to talk me out of hoverball and into wrestling so many times. Including tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s great for you but I don’t want you using your relationship to get me a job. I need to earn it. If I’m going to get into the training program for the biggest pro wrestling federation in the world, it has to be because of my skills, not because my boyfriend pulled any strings.”

I smile at his use of ‘boyfriend.’ I’m not sure he even realizes he said it. I hold up my hands, “I know, I know. And I respect that. Trust me, I haven’t said a word about your tryout, even to my fathers. I know dad couldn’t help but interfere. Making things happen is kind of his thing.”

“You two have that in common.”

I blush then kiss him deeply.

When we break, Miles says, “Seriously, your dad is amazing. Both your fathers are amazing, actually. And all your hundreds of uncles. I can’t wait to get to know them all better.” We kiss then hug. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given how incredible you are. Thank you for inviting me. Now, what do you say? Practice with me?”

“Tomorrow. I can’t disappear tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it. Tomorrow.”

The Next Morning. 10:00am. The Locker Room at McCoy Manor.

“What? You don’t like my choices?”

“Just surprised.”

“Well, I saw the Batman stuff - the Damian version is yours, right?” I nod. “And I saw the Superman stuff. I put two and two together -” Miles reads my face, “- and obviously came up with three. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, “No, they’re great. It’s just ... nothing. They’re great.”

“No, there’s something wrong. Maybe after all the World’s Finest talk yesterday I just had Superman and Batman on my brain. I just ... oh, wait. I’m an idiot. I never asked why Shaka named that sculpture World’s Finest. Your fathers. This makes you think of them in some way. This is weird for you.”

I tell him, “You’re not an idiot. It’s just my fathers’ first date was a wrestling match as Batman and Superman. They made their very own World’s Finest team for life. So yeah, it makes me think of them and, well, - I don’t know.”

“Wow. That’s cool but we can do something else.”

I shake my head. “No. I like that you picked this. And now I see you picked Phoenix Superman, so that definitely doesn’t make me think of my fathers.”

“Mr. Jae not a fan?”

“Actually, he doesn’t care. It’s my dad. He hates that Marvel bought DC. And he hates that whole secret crisis series where Superman got the Phoenix Force and remade the merged universe after the Thanos/Darkseid War wiped it out. He’s pretty old school about that stuff. Someone must’ve worn it here as a joke to tease him.”

Miles laughs, “Man, that was way back in the 20’s. Time to get over it, Mr. Cody. Although my dad swears the 2000’s was the pinnacle of music, so I can’t talk. It’s all oldies all the time at my place.”

I laugh, “For my parents, it’s the teens. They love that classic stuff and think no good music came out after 2019. Okay, enough talk. Let’s get cleaned up and hit the ring.”

“Awesome. Hey, are those showers? Like, actual water showers?” I nod. “And they work?” I nod. “How they’d get the permits?”

“They use purified rain and desalinated ocean. No impact.”

“Wow. Your fathers really are old school to go to so much work for showers.”

“Tell me about it. They didn’t even want to install the Freshenators. I had to stamp my feet just to get two put in here. They still don’t use them.”

Miles laughs, “Well, soap and water must work because they smell -” I narrow my eyes. “Sorry. Maybe we can try them out after we wrestle.” I raise an eyebrow. He laughs, “The showers, not your fathers. I haven’t stood under actual running water to get clean since I was 6.” He asks, “So, you feel okay, Jody? You partied pretty hard last night.”

“I feel great. I took some Rejuvenax.”

“Cool. How do you want me to smell?”

“Just keep it natural.”

“You got it. Same back at you.”

We set the sanitizers for simple scents then step inside. Basked in the cleansing blue glow and warm mist, it feels great to freshen up. 30 seconds later, we’re stepping out, clean and ready.

When we're dressed in our gear, Miles looks me over with wide eyes, “Damn, you’re so gorgeous, babe.”

Me as Damian Batman.

I blush, appreciating the compliment, "You, too. Just amazing."

Miles as Phoenix Superman.

Miles asks, “We gonna be alone?”

“We are. My fathers are good about that. You changed your mind on practice?” 

“No, I gotta work on my moves for real every day, but we can put some stakes on it. Maybe even enjoy those showers together.”

“You’re on.”

In the Ring.

This is kind of weird.

I didn’t think it would be but I just realized that we’ve actually never wrestled for real. We’ve gone hard but it was rolling around on mattresses, floors and that one time in the woods. Never in a ring. Always for fun and as foreplay. One of us usually gets too hot we let the other guy win then we fuck. And so, I’m going into this match blind, despite our relationship.

Miles gets used to the old school feel while I work out my strategy. This ring is different than what he’s used to but he picks it up fast. My muscular kind-of-boyfriend made it very clear he wants us to go all out. He wants to test himself, taking and giving full speed, full force moves. My cock is liking the idea of this but I can’t listen to it. I need to be focused.

I get it. CLAW is the big leagues. The biggest, actually. Slow, weak and phony wrestling won’t cut it. The outcomes might be pre-determined but the action needs to be real and hard. Miles is tough and stronger. I’m built better than him for grappling but for pro, it’ll be a toss-up. With his narrow waist, I wonder if I can breakdown his core? I’ve got some good back attacks.

When Miles is ready, we circle. I roll my neck. He shakes out his arms. Seeing him as Phoenix Superman is getting me hot. As if reading my mind, Miles says, “Damn, I didn’t think seeing you as Batman would be so freaking distracting.” He adjusts his pouch to handle his growing cock, so I do the same.

With everything set, we dive in for a traditional collar-and-elbow lockup. It’s been the way wrestling has started for a century and I decide not to pull any tricks. We start pushing and turning, trying to get an advantage. Miles surprises me by twisting and powering me into a side headlock. I grunt as I’m crushed against his side. I moan, “Nice move.”

My hands run over his legs as I search for the right counter. The musclestud drags me around, forcing me to walk with him, keeping me off balance. While I enjoy feeling his powerful muscles, I’m feeling the force of the side headlock. I have to escape. I grab him behind the leg and around the waist. I power him up then fall back, dropping him on his back in a side suplex. BOOM! He loses the hold and I roll away.

We rise and dive in again. This time, I go low, ducking the lockup. I grab him in a big bearhug. Guys always tell me my bearhug is tough. Miles moans, confirming he agrees. I squeeze him as hard as I can, crushing his narrow midsection. The musclestud pushes on my shoulders, trying to break free. Nope, I’m way too strong for that.

I shake Miles, holding him firmly in my python-like grip. He whips from side-to-side until he spread his legs, bracing himself. I lean back, lifting his boots off the canvas, preparing to shake him again but he leans forward and kisses me. My mouth reacts automatically and I kiss him back. As we make out, he easily breaks my bearhug then backs up with a big smile.

My eyes narrow, “I thought you wanted a serious match.”

“What? That’s a legit counter.”

“Really? You’re gonna do that at your tryout?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’ll be a heel who uses his sexuality to get the upper hand.”

“You could do great at that but I think we should stick to more traditional wrestling moves.”

“Fine.” Miles spreads his arms, “Lock on your killer bearhug again.”

I raise my eyebrows but decide to take him up on his offer. I wrap my arms around his waist then pull him in tight. I cinch it in tight and lift. We back on. I work the hold again, getting grunts from Miles. I squeeze him as hard as I can. I lift him up and he braces his shins on my thighs to relieve some of the pressure. The handsome hunk moans as I keep tightening the hold.

Miles falls over my shoulder. I’ve got him now. Suddenly, the aspiring pro wrestler clubs me across the back. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! The force of the blows shakes me and I have to let him down. I try to keep the bearhug tight but Miles twists free, stepping over me and turning into an ab stretch. I’m bent to the side, feeling the pain of the stretch immediately.

The pro wrestling powerhouse really cranks the hold. I moan. I’m not going to quit but I definitely feel the pain. I try to power forward but Miles is strong. He clubs my abs. THUD! THUD! THUD! I grunt as he punishes my core. I flex to protect my muscles but I know I need to get out of this hold. I pull forward, causing Miles to pull back to counter me. When I suddenly push back into him, we fall backwards with me landing on top of him. SPLAT!

I roll over but immediately come down with a double axehandle onto his abs. THUD! I spring back up then come down with a big elbow drop to his pecs. THUD! I roll away and up to my feet. The musclestud is up fast, too. I leap up for a dropkick. It hits him square in those big beautiful pecs. WHOMP! Miles flies back into the corner. CLANG! I scramble up as he sags against the turnbuckles, shaking out his head.

I charge at him. I leap up for a splash but Miles drops down. I slam onto the top turnbuckle. CLANG! OOF! I bounce off, landing on my feet, but my momentum carries me back and I fall onto my ass in the middle of the ring. I spin and rise, holding my abs. When I turn, the aspiring pro wrestler is coming at me. He clotheslines me down. WHOMP! I land hard on my back.

The pro wrestling powerhouse pulls me up. He scoops me across his broad chest then bodyslams me down. BOOM! I bounce on impact then roll over. I get dragged up again. I fire a fist but it’s like punching a synthenium wall. THUD! Up I go, only to get bodyslammed down again. BOOM! I get dragged up then slammed for a third time. BOOM!

With the fight drained out of me, Miles drives his gold boot down onto my abs. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! I roll over, trying to escape. He’s not letting up. The muscular powerhouse grabs my right boot and drags me along the canvas. He spins and sits back, locking me into a single-leg crab. I pound the mat, cursing as I feel the pain in my back.

I grunt, “Yeah, you really know how to do this one perfectly.”

Miles reaches between my legs and rubs my bulge, “How do you think your Uncle Ben would react if I added a ball claw to it? After all, the place is called CLAW.”

I quickly say, “He’d hate it! He’d hate it!”

A laugh. “I don’t know. Fans love this kind of shit, Batman.”

As soon as the word ‘Batman’ leaves his lips, I moan. He keeps playfully fondling my package. Miles laughs as he senses my arousal. He uses his long reach to find my cock, confirming how much I’m getting into this. “Ooh, somebody likes roleplay. Why have we never done this before?” I can only whimper as he toys with my manhood while punishing my back.

The muscleman releases the hold an I writhe on my stomach, trying to regroup. My ass is up, trying to ease the weight off my throbbing cock. Miles steps over my waist, sitting down on my ass. His 230-lbs of muscle drives my already too-tight pouch down, crushing it against the canvas. I grunt in shock and shift my hips but that only makes it worse.

Miles uses my lack of focus to power me into a camel clutch. I start to fight way too late and my arms get locked over his thighs. I shake my head as I realize that I’m trapped. I feel his hands under my chin, pulling me back. My back scream in pain and my cock finally softens a bit. Until the muscleman teases me, “You wanna give, Batboy?”

I just moan. Batboy? Fuck, why does that suddenly make me hot? Miles knows my noises, so he knows I’m getting horny. That only encourages him, “C’mon, Batboy.” OH! “C’mon, admit you love this.” I shake my head in his hands. “Admit it! You love this, don’t you?” I hesitate, almost confirming it but I find enough pride and focus to whimper a weak denial.

Miles forces his finger into my mouth. I involuntarily suck on it. He pulls it out then wiggles it in my ear. I twitch and try to pull free. He laughs, taunting me. I can’t believe I’m getting dominated like this. My cock is crushed into submission under his weight, but that’s only one problem. I’m still trapped. At least he’s not going too hard. I’m nowhere near submitting.

The muscleman reminds me this is a wrestling match by leaning back and increasing the pressure on the camel clutch. I cry out in pain this time, gasping as I go so far back that I’m staring at the ceiling. I close my eyes to fight the pain but the spots of the lights flash against my eyelids. I tense my arms and shoulders then fire forward to power out. UMPF!

It doesn’t work.

Miles says, “Give to me, Batboy!”

“NO!”

“C’mon! You want my super-cock. Give to me!”

I hesitate again, barely suppressing the almost irresistible urge to submit. Finally, I get out a strong, “NO!”

Miles releases the camel and I collapse onto my stomach. I writhe on the mat, struggling to rise. The muscleman lets me get to hands and knees. I plant my right boot then push up to standing. I lean back to stretch out my back when I feel him behind me. “Tsk, tsk, Batboy. You lost track of your man.” I realize he’s right and that it’s too late to do anything about it.

I feel his impossibly broad shoulders against my back then I’m quickly powered up across them into a torture rack. I cry out in pain again. Miles works the hold hard as he parades my limp body around the ring. He pulls down on my chin and knee, bending me in the vicious hold. I gasp and whimper. My back is aching from the relentless attack. I flail helplessly.

Miles slides his hand up to my bulge. I gasp then groan, “NO!” He massages my pouch and it feels good, almost distracting me from the blinding pain in my back. Almost. I feel like a piece of meat as he casually supports my 240-lbs of useless muscle.

As the muscleman pats my package, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna claw your big beautiful junk, Batboy.” I moan. “I’m just having some fun with you.”

The pro wrestling powerhouse starts squatting, increasing the pain. A slow squat down then an explosive push up. I cry out. He does it three more times, each one worse than the last. I’m almost ready to submit when he says, “Okay, this is my finisher. Let me know what you think.” I have no idea what he has planned as he shifts his hands to under my neck and hamstring.

We go down then this time, on the fast rise, Miles pushes me up with all his strength. I rise into a gorilla press then flip forward over his head. I fall as he brings he down onto his outstretched leg for a big gutbuster. KATHUD! OOF! I almost lose my breakfast on impact. The handsome hunk grabs a feel of my ass then pushes me off. I’m gasping as he rolls me up for a pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Miles releases the cradling pin and I sprawl out flat, my legs and arms out to my side. He slithers up beside me. I look at him, unable to move. He asks, “You didn’t puke, did you?” I shake my head. He smiles then leans in and kisses me. “Thanks for the match.”

After the Match.

“Fuck, that was hot, Jody. So, what did you think? Were the moves good?”

I nod, “Yeah, you got them all down. I liked the focus on the back to set up the gutbuster. Like you broke down my core from one angle to set up the finisher. Made sense.”

“You liked that, did you?”

“As a tactic. Not while it was happening!”

“I don’t know. You got pretty hot when I started dominating you and calling you Batboy.”

“Okay, I can’t lie about that. I’ve never done that before. I really, really loved it.” Miles kisses me and we make out. He gets up and helps me to my feet. As he heads to the ropes, I grab his arm, “It’s not over, Miles.” My kind-of-boyfriend looks at me. I explain, “You won top.”

“Yeah, but can we do it here? In the ring? Is it okay?”

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to fuck in here after a match. Let’s take this ring’s virginity.”

While my fathers would never think of having sex in a pro wrestling ring, it’s a huge fantasy of mine and who better to do it with than Miles. We move in together. He wraps his arms around my waist and we make out. I rub his broad shoulders and neck. My cock starts to push against my trunks. I feel Miles’ manhood doing the same. We moan as we attack each other.

We back off and strip off our trunks. No matter how many times I see his huge cock, I never get over how beautiful it is. He steps into me and grabs my cock. Miles says, “Fuck, you’re amazing. And you’re all mine this time.” He puts a hand behind my head and pulls me into a deep kiss while he jerks my cock. It gets even harder in his hand as I grip his shoulders.

Miles backs off and I drop to my knees. He moves in and I take his thick cock in my mouth. I start with the head, using my hand to work the shaft. I know what he likes and what drives him wild. I twist and bob, getting him wet. When I press a finger against his hole, I feel him stiffen and taste pre-cum. He moans and rubs my head as I work. Once I get him primed, he steps back.

I roll backwards on to my back, enjoying the view of him towering over me. He orders me onto hands and knees and I obey, rolling over. I brace my forearms on the canvas, lower my shoulders and thrust my ass up for him. The big musclestud moves in and teases my hole with his fingers. With his other hand, he reaches under me to grab my dangling junk. I gasp.

“Yeah, you’re getting real hot, Batboy?” I let out a long moan at him calling me Batboy. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that. Superman is gonna fill you up. You want that?”

“Yes, please, Superman.” Miles slides two fingers inside me and I cry out, “OH YES! FUCK ME, SUPERMAN!”

Miles finger fucks me until my cock is hard and leaking onto the canvas. He pulls his fingers out of my ass and releases my manhood. My Superman finally moves in behind me. He fondles my butt cheeks, “Fuck, Batboy, you’ve got the most amazing ass.” I feel his hands pull my cheeks apart then his large cock head press against my hole.

I moan, “Do it, Superman. Fuck my Batboy ass. Fuck me.”

The victorious muscleman drives in, plowing my ass just right. I whimper at the pain and pleasure of his thick rod driving in and out of me. He works in deep as I push my shoulders up and lift my head. I bay like a wolf as he breeds my hole. Miles’ reaches out and grabs my shoulder. His hips slam against my ass. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I’m groaning and gasping. My cock could explode at any minute. Miles pulls out. Before I can react, he flips me over onto my back. I instinctively lift my legs and he hoists them onto his shoulders with a grunt, “Damn, Batboy, your legs are so fucking thick.” The muscleman smiles down at me, “Superman wants to see your handsome face while he fucks you.”

I smile up at him as he plunges his cock back inside me. We lock eyes and my mouth falls open. I can barely handle it; it feels so good. With his arms around my thighs, he extends one finger. It hovers over my throbbing cock. I moan, jaw open and I nod. He says, “What?”

“Please.” Miles waggles his finger has he pounds my hole. I say, “Please, Superman … touch my cock!”

The muscleman runs his finger down my shaft then up it. It’s a feather touch but that’s all it takes. I throw my head back and erupt. Cum shoots out, hitting my face first then my pecs. I cru out as he continues to fuck me as I shoot all over myself. I look back up at him and he’s smiling, watching me uncontrollably shakes and shudder as I give up my seed.

Miles pulls on my legs, sliding me closer as he picks up steam. Seconds later, he freezes inside me. He cries out and I feel his cum spraying inside my ass. I moan as he fills me up. He slowly pumps his hips, unleashing more and more of his seed. I tell him, “Yeah, that’s my Superman. Fill your Batboy’s ass. Fill me up!”

The beautiful pro wrestler finishes and slides out, collapsing back onto his ass. I prop myself up and just admire him. He smiles at me and I roll over and crawl to him. I lean in and kiss him, lowering him back onto the ring. We make out slowly as we calm down, just enjoying one another.

The Start of Something.

As we spoon in the middle of the ring, I enjoy the feeling of Miles’ thick arms around me. His leg is draped over my hip. I rub his shin as we just enjoy the moment. I feel his cock shifting against my ass. He’s getting ready to go again. My cock stirs. I’m ready, too. I shift my hips to press my ass against his growing rod. He moans.

Miles asks, “Batboy want a rematch?”

I laugh, “You know Damian always gets revenge. Even against cosmic-powered aliens.”

“Anytime, Batboy.” My kind-of-boyfriend attacks my neck. I gasp as he goes to work. When he pauses, I feel his hot breath in my ear, “Okay, like they say in old movies, let’s hit the showers.”

We roll out of the ring with gear in hand. We’re both hard as rocks, excited to have sex in the showers. I wonder what my fathers would think. Their generation use showers for cleaning. I bet they’d be so shocked at the idea of using them for sex. I can’t even imagine how they’d react to us fucking in the ring. Luckily, they’ll never know. I start the ring’s self-cleaning routine - it’ll be like we were never here in a few minutes.

In the locker room, we toss our gear in the purifier. Miles asks, “You know what we need now, Jody?”

I move in close, “Oh yeah.”

“Not that. Well, yes that, but I meant, what good are Superman and Batman without superhero friends? You think some of the guys would play dress up with us? We could have a lot of fun this summer.”

“Hell yeah they would.” I pause then ask, “But you know what we really need more than super friends?”

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Miles hugs me tightly and attacks my neck.

I push him off, “Save it for the showers.” He growls. I smirk, “Yeah, Superman and Batman have lots super friends but what we really need are a few super-villains.”

Miles eyes go wide, “Oh my god, YES!”

I smile, “I think this is the start of something very cool.”

The End.