Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2004 09:53:53 -0500 From: Herb Cat Subject: Wayne the Wrestler chapter 12 - Conclusion Disclaimer: This story is fiction. I made it all up. The people in the story aren't real people. I made them up. The things that happen in the story didn't really happen. I made them up too. I am personally repulsed by the idea that grown men would manipulate the emotions of vulnerable young children for their own sexual gratification. However, as a writer I challenge myself to "get inside the mind" of my characters. In Wayne the Wrestler, I have attempted to present the blossoming relationship between a 30-year-old man and a 12-year-old boy. In doing so, I have tried to present both characters sympathetically. However, this story should not be construed as an endorsement either of pedophilia or of its insidious methods. I would appreciate any responses, positive or negative. Wayne the Wrestler - Chapter 12 That night at supper, Wayne brought Bruce his dinner but he kept getting distracted by Master Gerald, who was fawning over little lester, petting his head, tickling his armpits, even reaching down his briefs to fondle his balls. In front of the porch that evening, Wayne was hoping that Gerald would ask Bruce's permission to fuck slave wayne, but it just wasn't going to happen. In fact, since the men had their new slave boys, there wasn't much incentive that evening to find fresh ass. Wayne glanced around and eventually spotted Gerald off to one side, little lester laying beside him with his little feet up in the air. By that time Gerald had coaxed lester out of his panties and was now showing him how to finger fuck himself. At that moment, Wayne didn't know whom he hated more, stoic Bruce, cheerful little lester, or even his former, now-deposed god, Gerald. He began to wonder how special his little gift dildo really was. Did Gerald have a whole trunk full of boy-ass-sized plastic cocks ready to give every little lester who came by? slave brenda was chosen for the piss trough. His new Master had added red lipstick and a little necklace to his bra and skirt. All his clothes got drenched in piss. When Master Bruce got into bed, Wayne started to climb in with him. "On the floor, slave boy." Not a goodnight fuck. Not a goodnight blow job. Not even a kiss. Wayne laid his cold naked body and his colder naked soul down on the floor and quietly sobbed into his pillow. At breakfast, Bruce didn't leave much food for Wayne. After Wayne licked clean his nearly empty bowl, Bruce took him aside. "You were wiggling during the pledge this morning. That's disrespectful. What did I tell you, slave boy?" "The one thing you demand of a slave is respect, Sir." Master Bruce was temporarily caught off guard by Wayne's recital of his exact words. He quickly resumed his demeanor and said, "That's right, so now we are going to help you remember it next time." He sat down on the porch, took Wayne across his knee and walloped him hard. Wayne's mind went blank. All he could think of was how terrible this whole trade off day had been for him. Then Master Bruce said, "I expect you to fuck ass this morning." That was when Wayne realized it was nearly time for wrestling. "I expect my slave to give it 150%. I don't care what size your opponent is. Do you hear me?" "Yes, Sir." "Good, now get your singlet." Wayne ran to retrieve it and by the time he got back the boys and men were already parading into the gym. Most of them saw Wayne's red ass before he had a chance to slip his singlet on over it. He couldn't sit on the floor. He sort of knelt down and tried not to press his ass too hard against his heels. Words and voices kept floating in his head: Gerald saying "proud of you," Bruce saying "demand respect," Momma saying "don't become a bully," even Mr. Wheeler saying "think about it." Suddenly he realized the room was looking at him. He had casually been watching the wheel and he knew it hadn't stopped at Master Gerald's name. Then suddenly he saw it was pointing to Master Bruce, and today he, not adam, was Master Bruce's boy. He pulled himself together. Now it was Bruce's words alone which his mind repeated, "150%. I don't care what size he is." Wayne stood and waited while the wheel was turned. It spun slowly losing momentum, slowing down and finally landing on Master Gerald. Little lester got on the mat with his tighty whities. The chant began. Wayne stood there, thinking this was his chance to wipe out this sniveling rival who stole his Master from him. But fuck, this is no challenge. I can blow the kid over. What the hell do these people want, blood? Bruce had said "150%. I don't care what size he is." Does that include smaller sizes? And how can I give 150% to a job that only requires 5%. Wayne took the neutral stance and looked at lester. lester copied him with comical results. Why doesn't he just give up now and be done with it? Does this kid really want his big daddy Gerald to watch me mop the floor with him? Gerald. His words came flooding back to Wayne. Show respect to everybody, Master or slave. There is no honor in humiliating someone just for fun. Always allow them their self-respect. How can Wayne do that? The chant continued, but it was mixed with a lot of laughter at the inequity of the match. Wayne leaned forward and mouthed to lester "Trip me." He then lunged forward, lester placed his knee in front of Wayne's leg and Wayne went down. lester jumped on top of him for the pin. Wayne thought this is fun. I get to fool this sorry crowd of hyenas and lester gets some self-respect. We both win. In the second set, Wayne took the top role and the gears in his mind were turning. How can I take the fall this time? But it was too late. lester just collapsed under Wayne. The match was now tied. In the third set, Wayne was on the bottom. lester pranced around him punching his back with his fists like some sort of jungle drum. He pushed at Wayne's arms. Nothing. At the legs. Nothing. Wayne was a granite statue. At any moment he could have grabbed lester and pinned him. And he was almost ready to do that just to end the agony, when he got the idea. The crowd was yelling and laughing, so Wayne said softly to lester "kick my balls." lester circled behind. Sure enough, in the bottom position, Wayne's nut sack was an easy target. He swung his foot back and then landed it squarely on the sniglet covered balls. Wayne collapsed in a heap and lester got on him for the pin. Wayne stood up to get out of his singlet, then got in the doggy position, showing his still red ass to the world. little lester got behind him, pulled his undies down to his knees, and pointed his tiny dick at Wayne's ass hole. There was no penetration of course but he pumped his hips in imitation of all the fucking his young eyes had witnessed here. The audience was in hysterics. Someone even handed him the lube. lester was grinning from ear to ear, grinning even more than when he was riding on Gerald's shoulders. After the wrestling, Bruce came over to Wayne. "Come with me." He led him to the privacy of a stand of oaks. "I'm sorry, Sir." "Don't you apologize, slave boy." "I know, I lost. I didn't give 150%, Sir. I guess you didn't spank me enough, Sir." "Shut up, slave boy. Now listen," Wayne faced the ground and mouthed the rest of the sentence as Bruce said it, "I'm only going to say this once." "Yes, Sir" "Yes, you did lose the match." "Yes, Sir" And yes, you did not give 150% like you were told." "Yes, Sir" "You gave 200%." "Yes, S. . . huh?" "Don't play stupid with me, slave boy. I know how smart you are. What's the one thing I demand of a slave?" "Respect, Sir." "Yes, respect. And this morning you proved that you know all about that word. You showed respect for little lester, you showed respect for me, you showed respect for Master Gerald, and you showed a hell of a lot of self-respect." Bruce began taking his pants off. At last. "Are you going to finally fuck me, Sir?" said Wayne carefully using the word in a request, as instructed. "No, I'm not." Wayne looked confused. "For one thing, your ass is still red and sore. I think that kid must have fucked you too hard." This was the first time Wayne saw Bruce smile. "And for another thing, you're going to fuck me instead, young man." Not slave, not boy, but young man. Bruce got down on all fours. Wayne began working his dick and said, "Actually, I prefer the scissors position." "Don't push it, kid." They both laughed so hard that it was impossible to maintain an erection. "Save it, kid. Save it for your Master Gerald." "Thank you, Sir." For some reason, Bruce ate hardly any lunch that day. In the pool, lester kept splashing water in Wayne's face. And after swim time, Wayne went running back to the best Master in the whole world, his formerly deposed god, Mr. Raven.