Date: Wed, 07 Jan 1998 10:50:54 +1000
From: cuteheel@hotmail.com
Subject: Teen Pro Learns the Ropes

One

I entered the stadium through a side door, as I had been instructed, and
went to find my locker-room. The hand-written instructions I had in my
sports bag indicated I should go to a small room just next to the stairs
which led up to the arena floor -- some sort of office, it seemed, with
the door slightly ajar.
I entered without knocking and there was Mr Simms, sitting with a
cigarette hanging out of his mouth and talking to a boy who looked about
18. Simms was wearing the same beat up blue jacket he had been the first
and only other time I had ever laid eyes on him -- last Tuesday after
school, when he came up to the wire fence which separates the High
School track field from the car-park and beckoned me over. I had been
sprint training up and down the bleachers with my shirt off, and he eyed
me appraisingly as I walked towards him.
He had handed me a card that said "J. Simms -- sports entertainment
promotions", and asked me if I wanted to make a hundred bucks for an
hour's work.
"What've I gotta do?" I said, turning the thin white card over in my
hand and meeting his gaze suspiciously.
"Pro rasslin'," he said, and paused, as if letting the importance of it
sink into me. "I'm short one half a tag team and need somebody looks
like you to fill in for me. You up for it?"
"I never done anything like that before," I said evenly.
"Doesn't matter," he said, and lifted a cigarette to his mouth. "You
look like an in-shape kinda kid."
So I said yes and told my parents I was going out that Friday for a
movie. Now, standing in the cramped office which served as a make-shift
dressing room, I looked at Simms and at the boy who was to be my
partner.
If he was 18 he was one year older than me, although slightly thinner of
build. It had to be said we did look alike, though -- he was around
5'10", my height, 170 pounds maybe with a narrow waist and a firm,
teenage chest which budded out between his shoulders like a taut little
pillow. We were both blond but he had his shirt off and I could see a
few wisps of hair curling under his nipples and another thin line
picking up at his navel and disappearing into the belt of his battered
blue jeans.
"Chad," said Simms, stretching his hand out towards me, "this is you new
partner, Aaron."
Aaron shook my hand disinterestedly and looked me up and down. "You
couldn't find anything bigger?" he said to Simms.
"Shaddup," said Simms, and stood up. He handed me a brown paper bag and
said: "Here's your costume, kid. You're on at eight-thirty."
Simms shuffled out of the room in a stench of cigarette smoke and left
Aaron and me to consider each other. Aaron leant his butt against a
massage table which had been brought in and started taking off his
shoes, his back to me.
"Hey," I said. "So, like, what's the deal?"
Aaron didn't stop undressing but turned his head to look at me.
"Whaddaya mean, what's the deal?"
"I mean, like, what's going to go on tonight? I know it's not supposed
to be real -- right -- but, well, have you ever done this before?" Aaron
turned to regard himself in a full-length mirror and slipped his jeans
over his snake-thin waist. He paused for a moment in his trim, old pair
of Calvins and then slipped those off to. Naked, he turned to me.
"Look. You smack them or they smack you. Got it?"
Aaron had a perky, uncut dick -- small, but not out of proportion with
his body. From out of his own bag he slipped on a jock-strap and then a
pair of tight yellow speedo-like trunks. They shimmered where they
stretched over his package and had a white, 70s-looking stripe on each
side.
I had a pair like that in my own bag, and matching yellow pro-wrestling
boots just like Aaron's. They fit well enough but I had to retie the
laces a couple of times from the bottom back up to the top like I'd seen
Aaron do it. Looking at myself in the mirror I saw the sense in making
us a team -- I was taller by an inch, about ten pounds heavier and a
little broader in the shoulders, but we could have been brothers. My
blond hair fell in the same little fringe over my eyes as his, and we
had a similar slim build with soft pink nipples and smooth, bubble
butts. 
At twenty-five past eight we were called to the stadium floor, and Aaron
said as we mounted the steps: "Stay outta my way."


Two

Walking up the stairs and into the crowd was amazing. It was the
basketball stadium of a rival High School and maybe eight hundred people
were packed into the stands and on plastic chairs on the floor. I
scanned the crowd nervously for any familar faces, but didn't see any.
We climbed into the ring up four metal stairs and a man in a tux
announced two ficticious names and a combined weight into the
microphone, ending up by calling us "The Teen Ragers".
Aaron flexed and pulled the top of three black ropes aggressively as the
corwd cheered. I touched the rope too, to test its elasticity. Just as I
was about to raise my arm and acknowledge the crowd a mighty cheer went
up in the building, and all eyes turned to the entrance.
A barrage of music came over the loudspeakers -- Chumbawamba's
"Tubthumping" -- and two figures began to walk towards the ring. At the
sight of the first one, I gasped. He was about 6' 3", with a 32' waist
and a muscular 48' chest, which was dusted with small, straight black
hairs that spread horizontally from his large brown nipples. He had
short-cut, thick black hair on his head and piercing blue eyes, with a
square chin and deep gouge-like dimples which ran from the centre of his
cheeks to his jaw. The incredible arms, abs, thighs and shoulders
completed the picture of a Roman god.
He was wearing black speedo tights and jet black boots, with white
crosses of laces up to each knee. He entered the ring by hurdling over
the top rope, graceful as a cat, and in the roar of the crowd it was
difficult to tell wether they were cheering or booing.
My amazement at the first man was quickly replaced by awe at the second.
He also had an incredible figure but it was bigger, like a body-builder.
He was about 6'2" with black boots, square-cut black tights that ended
just beneath his tortoise-shell abs and a tight-fitting black mask with
two evil little eye-holes. His chest had been recently waxed but the
thick black hair on his forearms and legs made him look like the first
cousin of a gorilla.
"Ladies and gennulman," said the announcer, riding the cheers of the
crowd like a hawk on an updraft, "at a todal combined weight of
four-hunnerd-aidy pounds, Damon `the Demon' Randal" -- the first,
unmasked man raised his hand -- "and his partner, the Axslayer!"
At this the masked man made muscles in both his biceps and the crowd
went wild. He turned fully around once, every sinew in his incredible
body marked out like a road map. As he turned I could see one white
battle-axe sewn over the left buttock of his tights, and amid the
hysteria of the crowd I became aware that the bell had rung, and that
Aaron was climbing out onto the ring apron.


Three

I turned to look at Aaron but it was too late -- the announcer was
leaving the ring and both other wrestlers were looking directly at me.
For a moment I thought they were both going to charge, but instead they
went into a huddle and in another moment the Axslayer climbed out
between the top and middle ropes.
Damon looked directly at me with his incredible blue eyes and the only
thing that kept my cock from leaping out the leg of my yellow speedos
was a ice-cold column of fear that stretched from my neck to my toes.
Damon held out his arms for a lock-up and moved forward.
We met in the centre of the ring and just as our fingers were about to
meet, he cocked his handsome head a couple of degrees to the side and
flashed me a brilliant smile. I stopped still for a moment -- perhaps I
even blinked -- but the next thing I knew his boot was landing hard in my
solar plexus.
I shot through with pain and staggered towards the ropes, trying
desperately not to fall down. At the last moment there they were, but
Damon was aleady on me, grabbing me by my right arm and throwing me to
the other side of the ring. I flew through the air, hit the ring ropes
on the other side hard across my back and flew straight into a
clotheline on the return trip.
My shoulders hit the mat first and then the back of my head, my teeth
rattling painfully. I was winded and that moment I looked up to see
Damon standing immediately above me, flexing. All I could see were the
twin bulges of his incredible thighs, the bulge of his cock in the tight
black trunks and the line of ab muscles up to the heavy lobes of his
chest. Then I realised he was not flexing at all, but raising his arm
for an elbow drop, and a ton of muscle and bone fell across my chest.
I groaned loudly in pain and rolled instinctively to my side when he let
his weight off me. The next I knew he had me by the hair and was leading
me around the ring, showing off my hunched-over body to the audience.
Strands of my dishevelled blond hair were falling across my eyes and
finally he pulled me upright to look at me, and once more that
incredible smile.
Bringing his face so close to my head I could feel his hot breath
beading on my ear, he whispered hoarsely: "Hey pretty boy."
Then a viscious chop across my chest that sent me flying into the
turnbuckle, which slammed between my shoulder blades. I let my arms go
limp across the top ropes in the corner and my vision swam as I watched
Damon preen for the crowd. I was in a neutral corner, and limply I
pushed myself off the turnbuckles to head towards Aaron. Damon caught me
from behind before I had gone three steps and stuck a nerve pinch into
my neck, which made me yelp with pain. Instinctively I rammed my elbow
into his gut, and to my astonishment he let go.
I reeled around and realised he was more surprised than hurt, but I
seized the opportunity to swing my waist and land a kick to his gut like
I had seen in kick-boxer movies. He grasped his stomach and staggered
one pace backwards, leaving his chest and head wide open. I grabbed a
fistful of his thick black fringe and landed two, three fists quickly to
his left temple. Damon broke free and struggled away from me, dazed. I
too was feeling pain and used the opportunity to head for Aaron and tag
him in.


Four

We didn't speak as we changed places, but the moment I was on the apron
I collapsed against the ring-post. Every muscle in my body was wracked
with pain and I was drenched in sweat.
In the ring, Aaron made straight for Damon and landed three more rights
to his head. He must've known what he was doing because he seemed to be
causing the larger man real pain. In an instant he had Damon's neck
against the middle rope and performed a leg drop to choke him. Damon's
legs spasmed out behind him, and as Aaron let his weight up he thumped
the mat meakly with the side of his black boot.
Suddenly Aaron shot the the other side of the ring and catapulted
himself over Damon, between the top and second ropes. I didn't know what
he was doing until at the last moment he grabbed Damon's hair and his
whole body pulled down on Damon's throat as he shot out of the ring.
Aaron landed perfectly on the ground and Damon let out a gargled scream,
falling backwards into the centre of the ring and grapsing his throat
with his hands. His legs were flailing wildly and Aaron climbed slowly
up the opposite ring-post, acknowledging the crowd.
Aaron was standing on the second turnbuckle, on his way up, when
Axslayer made his move. Dropping the tag rope he charged the young blond
and sent him falling head-first into the ring, catching his toe on the
top rope and ending up face-down in the corner, legs still in the air.
Axslayer was in the ring in an instant, turning Aaron around so his toes
hooked in either side of the turnbuckle and kicking his exposed abs. 
The ref came over to stop it but Axslayer paid no attention, landing
boot after boot into the upside-down Aaron. The man in black had maybe
seventy pounds on my partner, and Aaron's slender frame shook intensely
with each kick. Meanwhile, Damon Randal was coming to his senses in  he
middle of the ring.
Damon joined Axslayer in laying into Aaron in the corner, and for an
instant I thought they could kill him. But when the ref started counting
Axslayer climbed back through the ropes, pausing only to spit on the
battered blond.
When Damon released Aaron's toes from the ropes, he fell like a pile of
rags to the mat. Damon picked him up by the back of the neck like a
scarecrow, displayed him to the audience and then hoisted him up for a
slam. When Aaron hit the mat the force bounced him into a sitting
position, and he clasped the small of his back before toppling over to
one side. While Damon waved to the crowd, Aaron started crawling towards
me.
It was painful to watch, and after a couple of feet Damon started
following behind Aaron. I knew what was happening but I reached out my
hand anyway -- just as Aaron reached his up toward me, Damon grabbed him
by the hair and pulled him away.
Aaron was in a world of hurt and his expression looked as if he was past
caring. Damon draped him in his own team corner and he and Axslayer beat
on him form inside and outside the ring. After a minute of repeated,
crippling blows, Axslayer tagged in and Damon took his position by the
ring-post. But instead of hitting him again, Axslayer just picked the
beaten blond up, put him over his shoulder and walked toward me. When he
was about ten feet away from me, Axslayer threw my partner at me and
nearly knocked my off the apron.


Five

Aaron had started to bleed from the mouth and seemed unble to move.
Taking the contact as a tag, I cautiosly climbed through the ropes and
faced Axlasyer.
The man was just massive. I knew one moment in a backbreaker over those
huge shoulders would be the end for me, so my strategy was to avoid him.
As Axslayer moved forward I dodged to the side and danced around the
inside of the ring-ropes. The crowd yelled its disapproval and the big
man made a lunge for me, missing.
I capitalsed on his momentum and pushed him into the ropes, but he
caught them and did not bounce back. After steadying himself for a
moment he unexpectedly leapt like a tiger, and before I knew it I was on
the mat under him.
I could feel Axslayer's enormous thighs struggling for purchase around
me but I couldn't resist -- in another moment he had me in a painful
scissor hold. I could feel the steely hair on his legs scrape my middle
as I struggled, but the air wash rushing out of my lungs and Axslayer
grabbed my head and began shaking. My hands were pounding the mat
uselessly, and I was vaguely aware of the ref asking me if I wanted to
submit.
Then, as suddenly as the pain started, it stopped. Axslayer released me
and, just as he had delivered Aaron, picked me up and carried me across
the ring. Only this time he was giving me to Damon.


Six

Damon was rubbing his hands as we approached and Axslayer dumped me so
my waist was bent over the apron, legs inside the ring but my head
staring groggily at the ground outside. Damon dropped outside the ring,
lifted my body flat for a moment and then slammed my head into the
outside wall of the ring apron. I fell under the ropes and hit the
ground, instinctively curling up for protection.
Controlling me by the back of the neck, Damon picked me up and slammed
my head into the green metal steps we'd used to enter the ring. My head
pounded and I hit out instinctively, but missed, and I could hear Damon
laughing.
He tossed me back into the ring and with one mighty heave Damon whipped
me into the ropes and then into a clothesline. I went hard into the
inside of his muscluar forearm and hit the canvas spinning.
Again he lifted me by my hair, but this time into a bearhug. With his
mouth next to my ear he started squeezing and jolting me up and down and
whispering: "You like that, blondie? You like that?"
Pain shot through my body, but slowly I realised Damon was rubbing my
limp form up and down over his own crotch. Through the thin black sheen
f his lycra I could feel his cock thickening into a bigger and bigger
erection.
The realistion did me no good -- after what seemed like an endless
bearhug, pressed up against the wall of his muscles, Damon took me over
to the turnbuckles. Holding me by the back of my neck, he started
pounding my head into the corner; fives times, six. I was vaguly aware
that the crowd had begun a count when he spun me around, and bit me just
below the hairline.
I knew he was trying to make me bleed to please the crowd, but I was
powerless to stop him. I was trying to force his head away with my
weakened arms when he stopped biting and started licking my face --
although to the crowd it looked as if he were still biting. Now his
whole body came in close and as a thin trail of blood started seeping
down my face he jammed his crotch roughly into mine, the big cock now
fully erect.
"Can't let the kiddies see that, van I blondie?" he whispered, and
maneuvred me into a painful full nelson. Strung up like that he walked
me into his partner's corner, hiding his hard on.
Axslayer entered the ring illegally and started pounding into my exposed
abs. I was on the verge of screaming bloody, painful submission when
suddnely I felt something collide into Damon from behind. It was Aaron,
who had sling-shotted of the ropes. 
Damon was dazed and released me, and I fell straight to the mat. As I
lay on my side the blood found its way into my mouth, and I saw Axslayer
and Damon double-teaming Aaron. They threw him into the ropes, double
clotheslined him and both started stomping on his prone body.
The next thing I knew I was up again, and Axslayer was knocking my head
into Aaron's. I collided with Aaron's forehead and saw him fall away,
although Axslayer kept me standing up. For a moment Damon's incredible
body was framed against the stadium lights as he leapt off the top
turnbuckle, but then he came down hard on Aaron with a force I thought
would drive him through the mat.
Aaron's slender leg twitched once, and his boot counted sorrowful time
on the mat. It was clear he couldn't remain conscious long, while
Axslayer took me to one side and put his boot on the middle rope.
"Lick it!" he ordered from under his mask. "Lick it, boy!"
He pressed my face hard into the leather boot, but I was too groggy to
do what he said. I could taste the polish and grime against my tongue,
but my mouth just rubbed spittle against the boot messily. Outside the
ring I could see Damon ramming Aaron's head into the metal railing which
kept back the crowd, and Aaron did not get off the ground again.
Just when I felt I was about to pass out myself, Damon climbed into the
ring and claimed me for one more punishment. Lifting me up so I lay
limply across his massive chest, he dropped me stomach-first against his
knee. The pain was excrucitaing. He lifted me again and once more
dropped me hard.
Somewhere nearby the ref was swimming in my haze of pain, and I tried to
ask him to stop the fight but I was too winded to get the words out.
Damon, however, realised what was going on.
He whispered into my ear: "You want it to stop blondie? You want it to
stop? Well, beg."
"Please," I said. "Please stop."
"Right. I think you're ready."
Damon took me once more into the corner and propped my limp frm against
the turnbuckles. I was beginning to black out as he climbed to the
middle turnbuckle and pressed my face into his crotch, where even in my
near delerious state I could feel the warm pulse of his cock. He held up
his hand to indicate to the audience they should count, and started
pounding his fist into the back of my head. With his other hand he kept
my face pressed tight into his speedos, and hitched one inside leg up an
inch to reveal the head of his enormous cock.
Four, five, six times he hit the back of my head, and on the seventh his
dick exploded with hot cum into my mouth. No-one else in the stadium
could see it, but hot streams pumped out in time with the next three
blows.
"Eight, nine, ten," the crowd counted enthusiastically. Cum mixed with
the spittle and blood in my mouth as his massive body quivered, just
once, every muscle pressing me into the turnbuckle. 
He moved back an inch and as I passed out my wet mouth and lolling
tongue slid down his chest, scraping against the little hairs which
criss-crossed his pectorals and pausing a moment at the delicious brown
niple, before following the line of his hair down his incredible abs,
over the black spandex bulge which had the tiniest damp patch at the
head of his dick and then onto the mat and oblivion. The last thing I
felt was Damon's black boot on my crotch as he posed for victory
photographs and slowly began to press ....