A sequel to Danny Rogers story (see below for The Destruction of Danny Rogers. This one picks up from there.) Love to hear from Fans.
Danny Rogers’s life settled into his new routine, even if it was anything but. He thought about running away, to another country where no one would know him, but he feared Watson’s reach could find him anywhere. With his luck, he’d end up being a dominated jobber in Japan or India. Watson would have him in pink wrestling a sumo. Because of his contract, he was basically a slave to the sadistic promoter’s desires. Watson had beaten him down. Now all Danny’s life revolved around jobbing, humiliation, public degradation in front of gyms and arenas and television audiences, and his pink trunks. A youtube page run by some gay guy was devoted solely to Danny’s matches. Watson made him watch all of the videos and read the comments from fans who couldn’t get enough. They wanted him beaten, humiliated, some fantasized about raping the jobber. They dissected each match, revealing their favorite wedgies, their favorite expressions of pain, their favorite heels
who destroyed him and what Danny’s ass would look like getting fucked.
“Maybe they’ll get their wish someday,” Watson would warn.
As he arrived at the arena for another TV taping, Watson’s secretary told him the big man wanted to see him in his office. This could mean anything. Maybe Watson wanted to spank him, maybe he wanted to fuck him, maybe he wanted a blow job, maybe he wanted to milk him before the match. Surprises always awaited.
But when Danny walked into the room, a new sight greeted him. The guy looked to be 18 or 19, no older than 20 for sure. He stood about 5-11, maybe 190 pounds. He had shoulder-length brown hair. And it was fairly obvious he’d been crying. He had a pair of pink trunks – just like Danny’s – on, but they’d been pulled down to his knees. He had his hands locked behind his head, legs spread. Danny was envious of his cock, which was hard and about 7 or 8 inches. A pink baby’s pacifier had been jammed into the kid’s mouth, a ridiculous image, made doubly so by the fact the guy was sucking on it like a baby, apparently trying to soothe himself after whatever the hell had happened before Danny’s entrance.
“Danny, come on. Strip,” Watson commanded. “Meet your new tag team partner.”
Danny could have figured as much. Why else would a young guy be in pink trunks and forced to stand in humiliating fashion, unless he was one of Watson’s jobber boys.
Danny took off his jeans and shirt, revealing the yellow thong Watson made him wear on match nights; still he was unable to take his eyes off the jobber standing in front of him. The guy’s cock continued to bob up and down, despite the obvious humiliation he had endured. Danny knelt by the office couch, not needing to be told that was his position in life.
“No, no, don’t kneel this time, boy. Come on over,” Watson said. “Get on daddy’s lap.”
Danny’s insides turned. No matter how many times Watson dominated him, he still felt fear when he approached the grotesque, evil promoter. Danny wandered over. Watson turned him around and gave a tug to the back of the thong, bringing out a grunt from Danny. He’d made him buy this and other panties at a Victoria’s Secret while the salesgirl giggled at Watson’s control over the pretty boy. Watson pulled him onto his lap and began manipulating his tiny jobber cock through the thong, exciting Danny against his will.
“I know, it must be scary seeing a jobber who has a big cock like that, but your little one is all you need, Danny,” Watson said.
The new jobber stood in place, his knees shaking slightly now from the pressure. Danny had no idea how long the kid had been in that position, and he had no idea how long he’d be forced to be in it. All he knew was that the guy’s life had effectively ended and he’d entered jobber hell.
Watson proceeded to introduce the youngster. He laid it out in horrifying detail while the kid stood there.
“His name is Richard Smith,” Watson began. “Well, was Richard Smith. That was his old life. The life where he was a state wrestling champion and literally dated the prom queen. Now he’s Richie Smith. Richie. That’s a jobber name and that’s what he’s going to go by. No more Richard. No more Rich. Richie, the fresh-faced youngster in pink trunks who’s going to be dominated, destroyed, degraded in front of millions. You know how it goes, don’t you Danny.” Watson rubbed Danny’s jobber clit some more, enjoying the feel of the precum that had leaked into the thong.
It turned out Richard – Richie – Smith had only graduated from high school six months earlier. He turned down a wrestling scholarship at the University of Iowa to turn pro. People thought he was nuts, but many thought it was a great idea. Richard Smith had charisma. he was the most popular guy in his large suburban high school. He’d banged nearly every hot girl in the school with his large dick. His long hair made him feel like Samson. Or a rock star. Those who agreed with his decision thought he would be a pro wrestling star.
He enrolled at Watson’s Wrestling School, a well-known training center. Dozens of top pros had come from there, and Watson made a fortune off of those recruits. But his true pleasure came in the jobbers he snared. Occasionally they’d go willingly, there might be a guy who’d always wanted to be a jobber and Watson took them in. He liked them. But they weren’t as much fun as the ones he blackmailed. Danny was like that, with his contract. Sometimes he used other means. Like drugs. Which is what he did with Richie.
Watson had installed dozens of secret cameras throughout the training center so he could always go back and watch the wrestlers. He didn’t care much for the ones that focused on the ring. He liked the locker room ones. The shower ones. The dorm room ones. There he watched and learned about his recruits. He always searched for the strongest one, the one he’d most like breaking down and turn into a tiny trunks wearing, humiliated, cocksucking faggot jobber. He knew right away it’d be Richie. Richie had star power but Watson had enough guys in this group to put to the big leagues. They’d make him money; Richie would make him cum. Richie was the cockiest wrestler in the group of 12, eight guys and four girls. The others feared him a bit. Richie loved showing off his cock in the shower. Surely he imagined a day when he’d be banging groupies at WWF events.
Watson watched him fuck two of the girl wrestlers. The guy loved himself.
It was so easy to blackmail him it should have been illegal. Well, it was illegal but the guys who got caught in Watson’s traps never figured that out and even when he told them they could do nothing. Not when Watson had the police and a DA on his side, guys who loved jobbers. One day Watson planted some coke and heroin in Richie’s closet. An “anonymous tip” led to a search of the room, where Richie was suspected of dealing drugs.
Richie sat stunned as the cop looked through his stuff. Drug dealing? He’d never even smoked a joint. But then the guy pulled out bag after bag of stuff.
“That was planted,” he yelled, but the cuffs were slapped on.
The cop took him to the station and an interview room. Then he was jailed and booked and released on bail, paid by Watson. Later that night, in his office, Watson explained the only way out of it for Richie. He’d become one of his jobber boys. He’d wear what Watson wanted him to wear. Wrestle where Watson wanted him to. Be humiliated in front of men and women and children. Be embarrassed in front of national TV audiences. No wrestling glory. Web sites would be devoted to Richie, created by fans who loved watching him get wedgied, pressed, suplexed and hair pulled by dominant, mean heels. His friends would shun him. His family too, too embarrassed to admit that their son was the jobber everyone saw on tv each week.
Richie couldn’t stop weeping as Watson laid out his choice.
“It’s that or you serve 35 years. And with that pretty hair of yours, you’d be a nice bitch in the joint.”
Richie knew he had no choice. He agreed.
A day later Watson took him shopping for some trunks. He went to a store run by a 45-year-old woman, an old friend of Watson’s who supplied countless wrestlers with their tights and trunks. But she also carried the gear that Watson enjoyed outfitting his jobbers in. They walked through the front part of the store that carried regular wrestling gear and went through two doors, to a smaller area.
Richie couldn’t believe his eyes. The place was filled with small trunks of all colors. Yellow, orange, purple, white, and pink. Pink all over. Some were bigger than others but he couldn’t picture wearing any of them. Watson grabbed about five pairs as they made their way to the rear of the room. There stood Susan Jones, the owner of the store. A stern woman, nearly 6 foot, with a bun, she looked like an East German dominatrix. She loved her job because of days like this. Her panties were already wet as she watched Watson walk the newest piece of meat back toward her. God how she loved putting these pansies into trunks, knowing they’d wear them in front of thousands, millions of people. Very soon, her trunks would be on this kid and they’d be grabbed, pulled and yanked by heels. What the hell, she was with friends and a nobody jobber, so she stuck a hand under her skirt and played with herself a bit as Watson approached.
The back of the room was home to a mirror that stretched nearly 15 feet.
“Susan, my newest project. Richie Smith.”
“Why’s he got his clothes on,” Susan asked.
Watson told Richie to strip. First came the shoes, then the shirt and finally the pants. He wore blue boxers. Susan smirked. “That’s the last time you’ll be wearing those, sissy,” she told the terrified 18-year-old.
Watson gave Richie the first garment. A pair of white trunks, spandex, with about three inch sides. Richie hesitated. Watson slapped him, establishing his authority. He took a handful of hair and leaned into the jobber’s face. Richie smelled the cigars on the big man’s breath.
“You mess with me, boy, and you’re leaving this place on a stretcher and you’ll never eat solid food again.”
Richie slid them up his legs, feeling the tightness, feeling them over his dick, which was now soft but when hard would reach 8 inches. A dick he’d long been proud of, now encased in silky smooth trunks. He saw the obscene image in the mirror. The muscular youngster, forced into tight trunks. Susan and Watson smiled. It unnerved Richie the way they looked at him like he was an insect. Or a slave at auction.
“Give us some deep knee bends, Richie,” Watson commanded, and after the earlier slap, Richie obeyed. Richie saw himself in the mirror dipping down and rising up. Susan said, “They ride up slightly in the back but not quite enough. I want any movement to make him uncomfortable and start to give him a wedgie.”
“Definitely,” Watson added as he fingered the material softly. “But it does show his cock off nicely.”
Watson pulled the front of Richie’s trunks and punched him the gut, stunning the young wrestler. He delivered another blow, all the while yanking on the front waistband of the trunks. Susan could see a glimpse of balls each time the trunks were pulled back. It made her panties even wetter.
“The front doesn’t quite pull out enough either,” he said as Richie wheezed and held his stomach. “A heel needs to be able to pull on this and see the jobber’s cock before he punches him.”
Richie spent the next hour modeling various garments and going through different punishments. Watson would scoop him up for a body slam, putting his large hand on Richie’s crotch and lifting him into position and then slamming him onto the floor, trying to judge how easy it was to grab the rear of the trunks. He’d suplex him, yanking on the side of the trunks and lifting him high in the air. Richie could see every action in the mirror. With every trunk, Watson would grab the rear waistband and yank up, simulating what it would be like when Richie was tossed out of the ring.
“We wanna make sure you get a nice wedgie each time it happens,” Watson told him. At various times, to his horror, Richie’s cock hardened. “Starting to like it, jobber,” Susan taunted.
Watson reached between the kid’s legs and lifted him for a stomach buster, but not before squeezing his nuts, making Richie yelp.
At one point, with Richie sporting polka-dot trunks, Watson bent the kid over and put him between his knees, in prime piledriver position. Richie could see his reflection in the mirror. His long hair nearly hit the floor. His ass was on display in the humiliating purple and yellow polka dotted trunks. Watson lifted him up by pulling on the rear of the trunks, bringing the trunks up into Richie’s inviting ass. He feared the madman was going to piledrive him on the hard floor but he let him down; he just wanted to test the trunks. Susan wandered over with Richie still in the vulnerable position. She took her right index finger and began to finger Richie’s asshole, through the spandex. He moaned involuntarily and tried shaking free. Watson tightened his knees, warning Richie to move no further. Susan continued to cram the finger up his ass before mercifully stopping.
“I trust you’ll be plugging this cute ass quite often?” she asked Watson, who only grinned in response. Susan could picture the dildos and plugs that’d be jammed up there sometime soon. Along with Watson’s cock. Poor kid didn’t know what was in store. Part of her felt sorry for him. But this was evolution at its purest, the strong controlling the weak.
Finally Watson found the trunks he wanted. He saved them for only his favorites. Like Danny. Pink. Pink was the perfect color for complete jobber submissiveness. Whenever the crowd saw a jobber in pink, a murmur went through, as they knew this was a real fruit, a true jobber in front of them. Richie would rather have been naked than wear the pink ones, but they were now his prison. They’d be his life. Watson bought them for him and they were out of the building, with Susan giving a final goodbye.
“Can’t wait to see you on TV, Richie.”
And that’s how he ended up in this office today, standing in the middle of the room, sucking on a pacifier with his trunks pulled down to his knees.
Danny listened in awe and horror to the tale. Watson flung him off his lap and walked over and slapped the kid in the ass and gave a good tug to the pacifier. “Suck it good boy,” he said. “You’ll have a lot bigger things in that mouth in no time.”
Watson told Danny to get dressed and go to the locker room and to take his new friend with him. Watson pulled the kid’s trunks up for him and pulled the pacifier out, delivering a final spank as the weeping wrestler left.
Back in the locker room, Danny tried comforting Richie, but there wasn’t much he could say that would make things better. Richie was fucked. Just like he was. Figuratively, and, soon enough, it’d be literally.
Richie stood self-consciously in the locker room in his trunks, watching in awe as Danny put his own humiliating gear on, the exact same model and color. Two pink pansies, dressed for destruction. Each adjusted them in the front and rear, like two girls in gymnastics leotards picking their wedgies. Danny couldn’t help but ask what the deal was with the pacifier in the office.
Richie told him how Watson had him model the pink trunks in the office. Then he brought him over for a prematch spanking. This stunned Richie. He’d never been spanked before, not even as a kid. As he laid sprawled over Watson’s lap, his pink trunked ass wiggling like a girl’s in the air, the tears flowed as Watson’s hand delivered blow after blow. Watson derided him, calling him a crybaby and told him if he didn’t stop it, he’d gag him. But the pain was so much as Watson spanked his white ass that the crying continued. Finally, fed up, Watson reached into a desk drawer and pulled out the pacifier, stuffing it into the kid’s mouth.
“There you go, all better now?” he mocked. The tears continued but Richie sucked on the pacifier, trying to forget the humiliation and the pain. Shortly before Danny arrived, Watson had him stand in the middle of the room, still orally plugged, then pulled his trunks down to his knees, depantsing and degrading the hot jobber. That’s how Danny found him.
Their opponents that day would be the Moondogs. A pair of old, has-been wrestlers still holding on. Rex and Spot. Watson picked them because they were bitter, tired guys who loathed young wrestlers. They were cruel, dirty, and mean. Watson had fired them up by letting them know the two kids they’d wrestle that night didn’t quite know their place in the wrestling hierarchy. He told the Moondogs Danny and Richie thought they could take the Moondogs in a real fight, something Danny and Richie had never said. But the Moondogs didn’t know that, and didn’t care. The only thing they had left in the wrestling world was these rare times when they got to dominate and humiliate young wannabes.
It’d be a WCW match in front of a national audience on TBS.
Richie could barely breathe as their match neared. He vomited twice in the bathroom and wished he could run. But Watson would find him, he knew. Danny had told him Watson seemingly knew everyone everywhere and would do everything to keep his jobbers. Danny knew how ridiculous they’d look when they went out to the ring.
The time came and they walked to the ring, listening to the hoots and taunts of the crowd. A 20-year-old girl in the front row took a cell phone picture and said, “Cute panties, boys,” while her boyfriend shook his head in disgust at the fags trotting to the ring. Each wore pink trunks with white boots. The only difference was that Danny’s tiny cock was tucked down further, while Richie’s, even soft, was a bit more noticeable.
They stood in the ring as the Moondogs made their entrance. Each Moondog was blonde with a scruffy beard and they wore matching cutoff bluejeans. Both had large dog bones and carried dog collars and leashes, adding to the menace. Danny and Richie jumped up down and down in the ring. Each reached back and adjusted the trunks that rode up in the rear, bringing giggles from several in the crowd, including a middle-aged woman who told them to “get some trunks that fit, fags.”
Danny started off against Rex. Danny smelled the veteran wrestler, the BO was overwhelming. For good reason. Rex and Spot hadn’t showered in three days. They liked to add to their aura of being dirty dogs who dominate little panty-wearing jobbers. The two locked up in the center of the ring but Rex brought a right knee up into Danny’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. With Danny bent over, he pounded him on the back with two closed fists, hammering down until the third blow, when Danny finally fell to his stomach, groping his back. Rex was relentless. He kicked Danny in the same spot on the back where he’d hit him with his arms.Then he dropped his knee on him, once, twice. A bruise was already forming. He reached down with one hand and pulled Danny up by his hair, leading him over to the ring. Spot had already put his filthy boot up to the turnbuckle and Rex rammed his head facefirst into it. Danny went down in a heap. His nose began to trickle
blood. He felt tears welling up.
Spot ducked into the ring and grabbed ahold of the rear of Danny’s trunks. He flung him across the corner, like a baggage handler tossing luggage. They wanted to break in the new jobber, get some fresh meat in there. As Danny lay in the turnbuckle, the pink trunks lodged up his ass, he reached up to tag Richie, who briefly hesitated. Maybe I don’t have to tag, Richie thought to himself. But he did tag. The second he put his head under the ropes, Spot stormed him, pounding him in the corner before hip tossing him to the other side.
Richie stood up and swung a feeble punch, which Spot easily ducked before delivering a right jab to the kid’s face. Richie went down; it felt like his jaw had been broken. Spot slowly lifted him by his long, brown hair.
“I like long hair on my jobbers,” Spot whispered. “Makes me wanna fuck them even more.” Richie groaned as he felt the disgusting man’s hands reach into his crotch. Body slam time, he thought. Instead the muscular Moondog hoisted him above his head and into a military press, strongly gripping the pink trunks and holding them several inches above Richie’s ass. He could feel the wedgie as he dangled in the air like a small child, on display for the crowd and the TV audience. Spot held him by the chin and walked over to the ropes.
“Who wants a jobber?” he yelled to one side and the crowd roared as he pressed his victim. he walked to the other side and yelled it again, completing the task four times, all the while holding Richie and pressing him, pushing the trunks further and further up his tight, jobber, 18-year-old ass. Danny watched from the ring apron with conflicting emotions. Part of him felt sorry for the kid. He’d been up there so many times and knew he’d be there again someday soon. Exposed, face held by a meaty paw, displayed like a carnival prize to these leering hooligans in the crowd and the masturbating masses at home. But the other part of him was glad it wasn’t him. Let a new jobber suffer, at least for a day. My god, he thought, Richie looks ridiculous. The pink trunks held up for leverage, his legs kicking helplessly, haplessly. Was that he Danny looked in similar situations? He knew it was.
Spot finally found his spot. On one side, a group of four women in their early 20s stood, begging him to throw the jobber at them. They were like goddamn bridesmaids waiting for a bouquet. Guess they wanted an up-close look at this fairy. He flung Richie over the rope, bringing gasps from the crowd who thought the move could kill the youngster. Richie wished it would have. He cushioned the blow by partly landing on his knees and arms, but his stomach still took a brunt of the fall. He felt for sure a rib shattered.
“Ahhhhh,” he yelled while the crowd roared.
“Touch him,” he heard a woman say, a woman in the group who had asked for his carcass at their feet. He then felt a small hand rubbing the side of his pink trunks, as the group dissolved into giggles.
He heard a small girl ask her mom, “Mommy, I can see his butt.”
Richie was aware enough to reach back and remove the wedgie from one cheek. But before he could get to the other side, the other Moondog, Rex, flew from the apron with a knee to his back, paralyzing him. Richie managed to turn over in pain, clutching the small of his back and rubbing his stomach. As he turned over, the crowd could see what Richie felt: his cock had grown hard. His once flaccid beast was now erect and sticking straight up, obvious to anyone with two eyes. Several woman roared and took pictures while their embarrassed boyfriends looked away. How’d it happen? Richie wasn’t enjoying himself, but as he was being held up, he could feel it growing, to his terror. Maybe it was the pink material being rubbed against his prostate as the Moondox lifted it into his ass. Whatever. It sprouted to life, as it had so many times before when he got ready to fuck a girl. But not now. God, not now. He tried hiding it but it was too late. Everyone could
see, including the audience as the horny camera man zeroed in on his groin.
Rex pounced. He stood Richie up and draped his head under his arm, readying him for a vertical suplex. Instead of grabbing the side of the pink trunks, he went for the front of the waistband and lifted. As he brought Richie up, he pulled up on the trunks, exposing Richie’s hard, big cock. Those close to the action could see it and Rex got a great view of it. He wished he could cut it off, feed the thing to his dog. A neutered jobber, what a great sight that’d be.
He held Richie’s helpless body in the air as the blood rushed to the kid’s head. Finally he fell backward, crushing Richie’s back. As he released the kid’s trunks, they rode up slightly in the front. Now the top of Richie’s cock, maybe two inches of it, was protruding from the top of the trunks. The crowd couldn’t believe it. The four women squealed and one said, “Your cock looks cute in your panties.”
Richie had no time to cover up. Rex picked him up and flung him to the apron, where he rested below the bottom of the rope. Still too stunned and a bit concussed, Richie didn’t have a chance to move his cock back into its pink spandex home. Spot, waiting patiently for his turn to dismantle the kid,took him up by his luscious brown locks. Instead of bringing him back to the ring, he turned him so Richie was facing the crowd. He linked his arms through the ropes so Richie was now a prisoner. He pulled him back by the chest, forcing Richie’s groin to stick out and the crowd got another perfect glimpse at the shiny cock sticking out in pink.
A woman in the crowd saw it and pictured herself sucking it. But then she thought, “I could never be with someone who put himself in this position. I’d never suck the cock of a pink-trunked sissy. Give me a real man.”
Watching backstage, Watson fondled himself. He knew he’d have to have that blurred out for TV, but good lord, what a nice cock in cute trunks. The ultimate humiliation. Spot delivered a forearm to Richie’s chest, reddening it. Then another, all the while the cock was pinned in the trunks, refusing to go back to its home. He fell back into the ring after Spot released his arms. Lying on his stomach, Richie adjusted the trunks. The boner remained, but at least it wasn’t so visible. In his ass, the trunks remained lodged in one cheek, a ludicrous, embarrassing visual.
Spot sprinted over and slapped an unsuspecting Danny. Dazed, Danny felt Spot pulling him over the ropes and into the ring by his hair. As Spot did this, Rex entered the ring to kick Richie. The ref had lost all control. There should have only been two wrestlers in the wring at a time, the announcer said. What were the Moondogs doing?
Spot stood Danny in the corner, while Rex did the same to Richie in the opposite one. They tossed the pink pansies at each other and they collided like a linebacker hitting a wide receiver over the middle.
They left Richie rolling and concentrated on Danny, as the ref continued his hapless attempts to regain control of the ring. Rex threw Danny into the far turnbuckle, where he remained as Spot came rushing at him with a splash, pounding all 310 pounds of his fat into the athletic but used jobber. As Danny staggered forward, ready to collapse, Rex collected him in a powerslam, the final crushing touch to Danny’s back. He laid motionless, his last cognizant thought being he hoped they simply covered him for a pin.
Instead they turned their focus to Richie. They flung him into the ropes and as he bounded off they combined their arms for a double-clothesline. Richie grabbed his neck as he kicked his legs, searching for a way to regain his breath. This time Spot collected his carcass and threw him again into the ropes, where he waited, scooping him up for another powerslam. Two seconds after he planted the fairy into the canvas, Rex came in for a splash, flattening the hot 18-year-old jobber in pink.
Now DAnny and Richie lay motionless, completely at the mercy of their predators.
It was time for a dual pin. Spot took Danny and shoved him between his stinky, rotting legs, while Rex put Richie in the same position. Both jobber’s asses were facing the cameras. Simultaneously, without speaking but with a mental telepathy that comes from heels who know how to dominate jobbers, each pulled the jobber up by yanking on the rear of the waistband, effectively placing each jobber in a pink thong as they were lifted up into the air, in prime piledriver position.
The Moondogs held each defeated opponent in that position for 10 seconds, having shifted their grips to the jobbers’ stomachs, the jobber asses in their faces, their hair drooping down. The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the Moondogs jumped at the same time, delivering neck-crushing, dual piledrivers. They each covered their boy and demanded the ref count the jobber out. Each drooled on the boys’s chest, the tobacco juice spilling onto their bare, beautiful chests.
Danny’s right leg twitched involuntarily, as his body tried to process what had just happened to his neck. Richie saw blurry lights above him and just wished he could go back home, to his parents. If only the Moondogs had been done with them.
Each went and retrieved their dog bones, large, white, disgusting bones, and their collar and leashes. Each latched a block collar onto their jobbers’ necks, followed by the leashes. They kicked the boys to the side of the ring, climbed out and pulled them by the neck to the concrete. Each jobber got onto his hands and knees, prime position to be fucked. They were now dog slaves in pink. Spot picked up his bone while Rex did the same. As Rex stuck the bone into Richie’s inviting, open mouth, he whispered into his ear, loud enough for nearby crowd members to hear, “If this bone drops out of your mouth, boy, I’m going to pull your panties down and fuck you with it!”
Richie believed him. He bit down on it, in the same way he had with the pacifier back in Watson’s office. Spot didn’t give the same warning to Danny but he heard it delivered to Richie and had no doubt the same fate would await him if it dropped out. With a kick to the ass, each Moondog had their boy start crawling around the floor, with Richie in the lead. Rex waited for Danny to catch up and Spot made Danny put his nose in Richie’s wedgied ass, like a real dog sniffing another.
When one of the jobbers would get too far ahead, the Moondog yanked back on the leash, choking his jobber boy. They’d stop the march to occasionally kick one in the head. Spot especially liked doing this with Danny, whose knees and arms ached from being dragged around the ring. The Moondogs took their new doggies around to all sides, giving everyone in the audience a glimpse. All the while the bones remained in their mouth. At one point, Richie was pulled up so he was standing on his knees in front of a fat black woman in the first row. The Moondog told her to slap her. She hesitated, wondering about lawsuits or arrests. But with the crowd encouraging her, she peeled back and punched the kid on the side of the face, sending him crashing to the ground. The Moondog yanked him back up and to his hands and knees. Back in the locker room, they delivered final kicks to their heads as the bones fell out. Watson came in and told them, “That’s enough fellas,” and
the Dogs took their collars and leashes back while the defeated jobbers sprawled out on the floor, defeated, wedgied, humiliated, used.
Watson picked the jobbers up at the apartment they now shared. He told each of them to wear the short white shorts he’d provided them and a pair of panties.
“Pick your own color, whatever your heart desires,” he told them. Danny went with a full-cut purple one, while Richie went with a thong. All were humiliating choices, but he thought that one might not show a pantyline. He was wrong. At the McDonald’s Watson took them too, three girls behind them in line snickered and shot cell phone photos of the jobbers in short shorts and obvious panties.
Watson drove to a local sex shop. He made the jobbers get out and told them to hold hands as they pranced in. Each boy resisted, but Watson fixed that with slaps to both of their faces, shocking a pair of onlookers in the parking lot. The boys locked hands, like young lovers on the beach and followed their master and promoter into the store.
A couple of young women their for a bachelorette party – picking out funny gifts – stood in the store, as did a middle-aged man. The clerk was a bored goth-looking girl, who perked up when the three men came in. She’d seen everything, but the sight of the two hunks holding hands while an older man directed them was something new. Watson went up to the clerk.
“Hi, could you help me find some butt plugs for my two charges here,” he told her. “Something with a remote, preferably.”
The girl bounded down with the enthusiasm for a Walmart employee and took them over to the plugs. The girls for the bridal party heard the exchange and snickered to themselves. Richie heard one say, “Check out the fags.” He used to dream about marrying girls like that. Now..
The clerk showed off a wide array of plugs that she assured Watson could be crammed up the boys’ asses and he could control the remote from 30 feet away.
“Lovely,” Watson said. He settled on some round, white ones. They weren’t super long but they were nice and wide and would expand each boy’s anus, good for future training and future cocks.
Watson paid for the plugs and the trio were on their way to the arena for that day’s matches.
Watson marched them into the office, where they saw a pair of long tables set up. They looked like massage tables, and it confused the jobbers. Each was adorned with leather straps and both now knew. Watson made each strip, complimenting each on their choice of panties. Both boys laid down on a table and Watson strapped them in, securing their legs and chest. He gagged each with some duct tape. Traditional, but still effective. He played with each boy’s cock a bit as they moaned, but he refused to give them release. Moments later, the door opened and a young Asian woman of 25 walked in. She blanched at first but regained her professionalism. This looked vaguely illegal, but the 4-figure tip erased any doubt she had about this job, which Watson had hired her for just the day before. Watson wanted both boys shaved and waxed clean, they had been sloppy with their own work. They were supposed to keep their balls and ass clean but there were some stray hairs
that annoyed Watson. They couldn’t even handle this little bit of freedom he gave them, so it was time to strip them of it. Literally.
She went to work, lathering up each boy and shaving their inner groin, above their dick and any remaining chest hairs, though both jobbers were naturally hairless there. All the while, Watson flirted with her and she responded in kind. God, she loved watching a dominant man in action, even if he was dominating other men. She had no idea how these two good-looking guys had ended up in this position but she knew the man paying her bill had made it happen. The thought made her cunt ache.
Finally Watson went for a kiss while she held a razor above Richie’s crotch. She dropped it and Watson took her over to the couch. For the next 25 minutes, he fucked the Asian girl while Richie and Danny stared in jealously. How they longed to feel the caress of a woman again, instead the feel of their pink spandex. They usually only masturbated into their trunks, panties, or Watson’s hand. Now they watched him enter the Asian, in her cunt and ass, as she yelled his name in pleasure. As he fucked her in the ass, they both stared at the restrained jobbers, each looking at the boys in bondage as they both came, four people moaning at once: two in pleasure, two in abject misery.
Finished, they dressed and Watson came over, where he took off the straps and flipped both over for their ass waxing. The girl handled it with professional aplomb, finishing up with a flourish by giving each boy a spank on the ass. This was one job she wouldn’t forget soon. Watson said he’d pay her on a weekly basis and he had more jobbers she could work on. She asked him if he wanted her to give the jobbers a happy ending but he said no, they didn’t deserve that. She flicked each guy’s dick lightly, picking up precum and smearing it on their face with a laugh.
When she left, Watson had both boys climb down. He ordered them to put their hands on the table, as if they were going to be arrested. He kept the duct tape on, better to hear their moans and see the drool that spilled over the gray material.
He went to his desk and removed the recently purchased plugs. Grabbing some lube from his desk, he slathered the up. First he went to Danny and jammed it in. Danny grunted, still not use to intruders in his ass. Then his ass welcomed it. Next, Rchie, who had never had anything up his ass. He too blanched, but then accepted the vibrating egg, which Watson turned on the second they were in both boy’s asses. They shuddered and their cocks sprung to life in response. Watson manipluated both boys. Laughing, he stopped and told them to get their trunks on. He ripped the tape off as they puled the pink gear up their shiny legs. Time to wrestle.
They were facing the Barbarian and Hercules, a pair of strong men who would have no trouble overpowering the lanky but smaller jobbers. No amount of athleticism would help them.
Each boy took tentative steps toward the ring. Watson planted himself at a table where the announcers sat, two remotes in his hand and a grin plastered on his face. As they jumped, he pressed Richie’s and the boy jumped higher. It nearly knocked him to his feet as it seemed to be crawling through his ass, trying to escape the pink trunks. Danny could tell what had happened and he knew it was a matter of time until it happened to him.
Sure enough, it buzzed, jolting Danny as Barbarian and Hercules entered. It only lasted a few seconds but he knew it wouldn’t be the last time. Richie started the match against Hercules, who had way too many steroids running through his body. Richie kicked him in the stomach and Hercules acted like he’d been kicked by a 1-year-old. Richie punched him and Hercules smiled. Finally Richie ran back and propelled himself into the ropes for a flying cross body block. Hercules caught him in the air like a flyball and gripped the rear of his trunks, pulling them down halfway and showing the top of Richie’s rack to the audience. He carried him like that for 15 seconds before dropping the kid onto his knee.
Hercules raked the kid’s eyes and got up to tag Barbarian. Richie took the opportunity to tag Danny, who got a running start at the Barbarian and delivered a strong dropkick. Barbarian didn’t even feel it. He took Danny’s hair and delivered a skull-breaking headbutt. Danny flailed backward as the Barbarian delivered a boot to the top of his head. He brought Danny up and began to throw him into the ropes. Instead of sending him all the way, he stopped him with his giant arm, delivering a clothesline that knocked DAnny on his cute ass.
As Danny rolled around, Watson triggered the vibrator and Danny rolled around some more, almost like he was trying to escape from its clutches. Unaware of exactly where he was – which was in front of 10,000 people and a million viewers – he grabbed near his asshole, trying to stop the vibration. He felt his cock rising, as much as it could, as Barbarian scooped him up. The Barbarian held onto the side of Danny’s trunks and lifted him for a vertical suplex. The vibrator pulsed, now seemingly digging even deeper into Danny’s ass as he was held vertically and the Barbarian toyed with the silky trunks. Without any manual simulation, Danny could feel himself nearing an ejaculation. he said a silent prayer, asking the wrestling gods to be dropped by the Barbarian. Instead Barbarian carried him around in that position, holding him up for all to see. Danny could hold back no more and he felt his 4-inch dick leaking cum into his trunks. He moaned slightly, the
exquisite feeling of orgasm mixing with the pain and humiliation of being a used object. The Barbarian could see the soiled trunks as he held the kid and grinned. Finally he fell backward from the suplex and Danny’s hands instinctively went to his groin.
Barbarian lifted Danny up and pulled his arms back behind him, so his entire groin was in full view and there was nothing he could do about it. Viewers at home thought he’d pissed himself. Debate on the internet centered on whether Danny had jizzed in his tights or pissed. But all could see the outline of his shrinking and minuscule cock, as the semen had made the front of his trunks fairly transparent. He walked Danny over to Richie, who looked on, stunned, fearful, resentful. As he held Danny, he screamed at Richie, “Tag in, fucker. Tag in.” Danny reached out for his lifeline and Richie slapped his hand.
The second he ducked into the ropes, Barbarian’s boot greeted him. He picked up the long-haired hippie and tossed him headfirst into a turnbuckle. After, he easily lifted the jobber into an atomic drop, holding him up in the air a few extra seconds, he dropped the kid’s ass onto his knee and Richie grabbed his rear. Barbarian sauntered over to tag Hercules. sensing a chance at freedom, Richie slithered like a snake to the ring exit, hoping he could just fall to the floor. Maybe he’d just be counted out. Although part of him had to know Watson and the heels would never allow that. But he had to try. He scrambled for the outside, until he felt his trunks being grabbed.
Hercules had run over to catch the sneaky jobber. With his powerful right hand, he grabbed ahold of Richie’s rear waistband and pulled back.. Richie was hanging half out of the ring, but now his trunks were also half-off. The crowd with a full view of the half-moon roared. Hercules dragged him back in and then lifted him by those same trunks, before turning him around for a punch to the face.
Hercules lifted Richie into a crushing bearhug. Richie wrapped his legs around Hercules in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. His cock rubbed up against Hercules’s chest. This was time, Watson thought. He turned the vibrating egg on high. Richie let out a cry, from the pain and pleasure. He felt his cock rise against his will and nothing he could do would change it. The vibrator pleasured him in a spot he’d never known before, it made him writhe against Hercules, rubbing his cock against the muscle man’s burly chest. Hercules could feel it and grinned. He knew the kid had a vibrator up his butt and grinded the backbreaker. Richie put his legs on the ground to try to keep his cock from rubbing so closely against Hercules, but the strongman reapplied even more pressure, causing Richie to compensate by again wrapping his legs around him like Hercules was his daddy. But this caused his ass to open slightly and the vibrator to find even more comfort,
while his cock again rubbed against Hercules. Inevitably, Richie felt his cock spurt hot cum into his trunks. There was nothing he could do. The last time he’d ejaculated had been at wrestling school, when he banged the hottest female wrestler in the school.
Finally Hercules released him and Richie fell to his back. His cock was now deflated, the erection gone. But in its place was a puddle of jobber cum, which stained the front of his pink trunks for all to see, including the TV
audience. Danny saw it and grimaced, knowing full well what he was experiencing. Poor Richie. Worse, the trunks had gone transparent and the cum was all they needed to let viewers see inside. They could make out Richie’s fine cock, as the cum surrounded his defeated cock.
People watching now knew that this wasn’t piss. What were the odds that two guys would piss themselves? No, it must have been cum. Jesus, did you see the two fags on TV who came in their pink trunks? Yeah, I went to school with the one. Richard Smith, although he’s now called Richie Smith for some reason.
Hercules scooped the kid up for a torture rack, his hands fondling the kid’s crotch as he lifted him onto his shoulders. Now the erection was long gone, but fans could see his soaked trunks. Hercules pulled down Richie’s chin while pulling down on his crotch, nearly breaking the kid’s back. Watson took that time to put the vibrator back on. Yeah, the kid had cummed, but it was time to teach him that his ass always belonged to him. Richie felt it but now it was no pleasure, just a sign of ownership. He screamed out to the ref, begging to give up. The ref prolonged it a bit, letting Hercules have his fun. Finally he rang the bell and Hercules dropped the pussy to the mat.
Danny came over. Predictably, Barbarian charged in and gave him a boot to Danny’s head before flinging him outside the ring. Richie joined him a second later as Hercules threw him over the rope. He found Danny. He picked his jobber partner up and they walked to the locker room, in front of the sneering, snickering crowd, who delivered their taunts about their trunks and cum. There they were. Two jobbers. Two pussies. Richie and Danny, two pussies in pink.