Traveling Trade Chapter 3

Not done yet musclebitch

From the top of the post I saw later he somersaulted, landing both feet PLANTED into my abs, making my body jackknife and come to with a horrible groan and desperate sucking gasp for air.  Onyx pulled me up by my hair, winded and punch drunk I didn't realize my trunks had fallen half off my ass until fans were slapping my exposed cheeks as Onyx paraded me around the guard rail for the crowd to see up close.  I reached back groggily trying to save some shred of dignity and pull up my slipped trunks.  Onyx noticed, of course.  "Oh your trunks are coming off, we can't have that at a family show." the smartass.  he grabbed my silvered trunks and YANKED them high up my ass in a thong wedgie, leaving only "TLA" visible between my ass cheeks.  He swatted my ass as he jerked my hair and SLAMMED my forehead into the guard rail, all but putting me out again "That's fitting, Tamed Loser Ass"  and he laughed as he gripped my wedgied trunks and tossed me back in the ring.

Setting him up for a big one

Still trying to stick to the rehearsed match I got on my knees and threw a stiff punch into his abs, not pulling any of the force trying to let this dick know I wasn't happy with his improv.  He stumbled back, then instead of continuing with the planned "brief comeback" of mine, his boot SMASHED my sternum I crumpled over the toe of his boot and melted to the mat arms crossed in pain.  No rest for the weary he dragged me up again, making so much meat out of the muscle jobber Atlas.  He pressed my face into his bulge, and I realized for the first time he was THROBBING in his squares, as it twitched against my cheek. He pulled me up onto my feet wobbly at best and stumbling SMACK SMACK SMACK 3 times light speed he slapped me across the face front and backhand snapping me out of my fog for a brief second, long enough to see him pivot back on his foot, and a sudden cheer from the crowd.

Jobber Jace laid flat out

Jobe getting crunched

I barely even got into a defensive stance before his back foot snapped up hitting my chin.  my head flew back, sweat flying from my hair, then he kicked me back and forth mimicking the slaps from before with his heavy boots.  Completely out on my feet at this point, the crowd quiet and watching the towering champion like the hush before a demolition crew sets off explosions to take down a building.  In a flash I felt a shattering burst of pain in my crotch, and then a thud against the back of my neck as I doubled over and everything went black.  Out cold again in this match up, Atlas getting ripped apart by Onyx.   I wasn't out for long, he took a moment to showboat and flex for the crowd before STOMPING my nuts, grinding his boot down as I came to squirming and groaning in pain that seemed to have no end.  At this point I was praying that I would just pass out from shock.

Traveling Trade Chapter 2

Out on the ramp awaiting my trumpet fanfare to play over the speakers, I kept trying to adjust my trunks to cover my ass but it was no use, a little bubbled out either above or below my trunks no matter what I did so I finally just settled on letting the trunks ride low on my hips, as that showed the least in back and kept me covered in front.  They brought out Onyx first, playing his low bass drums and fog machines, I had to admit the man was hypnotic coming to the ring.  His square trunks and boots shone jet black like the gem he was named for and he was covered in strategic slashes of metallic black body paint, making it look like he was pure onyx under his skin as well.  The fans had the whole arena rumbling as they stomped in time with his already near famous entrance music.

I rolled my eyes as I ducked back behind the ramp curtain waiting for this pony show to be over.  Finally I heard my trumpets start playing the tune of a hallelujah choir, timing it perfectly as always I stepped out just as my golden spotlight shone down at the curtain.  I started flexing, doing a set of two or three poses at a time as I made my way down the ramp.  Enjoying the awed looks from the fans closest to me, or so I thought.  I eventually heard laughing when I got about halfway down the ramp and finished my posing, walking the rest of the way.  I looked up at the ring and saw Onyx was mimicking the poses I had done for my entrance, while making ridiculous faces like he was constipated, ending it with the famous Atlas pose, complete with globe.

He then straightened up, balancing the globe on one hand and mimed jerking his dick with the other.  I was pretty pissed by this point, already annoyed that I was billed to go down to this punk but he had to add insult to injury with this shit.

I got into the ring and we went through the motions of getting patted down, the ref being a little more than thorough searching around my groin and ass, same with Onyx. We shook hands, me glaring, him smirking and the bell rang. I came at him going for a lariat as we had rehearsed countless times into the night for this "momentous match" as it had been marketed to the fans over the past few weeks.  However instead of ducking the lariat and going for the toe hold like we practiced he dropped to one knee and HAMMERED a fist into my gut knocking the wind out of me and bringing me to my knees in shock and breathless.  Onyx grabbed my hair as he stood up and I heard him snarl "A little change of plans Atlas"  just before a hard knee smashed my forehead and sent me flat on my back.  About 30 seconds into the match and the crowd was already approaching manic, and I was somewhere between shock and pissed off as Onyx took full liberty-throwing our whole rehearsed match out of the window, I could see something in his eyes that was barely human.  This fucker wanted to really hurt me, I wasn't about to go down as the first superstar jobber to get flattened on this punks road to fame.  I reached up and grabbed the bulge in his shiny square trunks, squeezing making the muscles in my forearm bunch up and ripple.

As Onyx's legs crumpled and the crowd noticed what happened the loud screams and boos started.  The crowd persecuting the former muscle bound hero now reduced to dirty below the belt tactics to get a win over the new cool ninja wannabe.  At that moment I wished I could scream "He started this shit!" but knew that would be useless, even if it were possible.  I stood up and moved to grab Onyx's throat with my free hand, when he decided to show his martial art gimmick wasn't just for show.  He grabbed my arm crushing his bulge at the bend of my elbow, pressing his thumb in my whole hand suddenly exploded in pain and then went numb, falling away from his crotch.  His other hand swung around wide, jamming a thumb in the side of my neck that sent pain through my whole skull and nearly dropped me to my knees.  Onyx grabbed my arm that had been going for his throat at the wrist, twisted so hard he had me on tip toe and three lightning quick kicks bashed my balls, my sternum and my face.  Now rocked and barely standing on shaky legs I couldn't even raise my numb/burning arms in defense as Onyx took a step back, did some freaky Bruce Lee pose before lunging at me and slamming an open palm into my chest, just under the breast bone and angled up-hitting hard enough to send me airborne over the ring ropes crashing on the cement floor in front of the screaming fans.  The last thing I saw was Onyx climbing the ring post before I blacked out...

Traveling Trade Chapter 1.

In the 9 years that I have been an active "pro" wrestler, I spent 7 of them billed as a jobber in several different underground federations.  It's like promoters can smell it on you.  Maybe it's just your look, or your attitude in general or something else entirely.  But they just seem to know almost instantly what role the fans will want to see a new guy playing in the ring.
At first, fresh out of high school and pumped full of energy, a bright eyed muscle head teenager- I was a shoe in for the beefcake babyface fan favorite.  Everywhere we went with our small promotion the crowds (while often small) were ecstatic to see this new handsome face, built like a brickhouse geared up in simple solid color trunks and matching boots going by the name Atlas and destroying the ranks of paunchy wrestler wannabes and occasionally taking a challenge from a local tough guy and laying him to waste-always ready and willing to flex and pose for the fans.

Then the crowds along our tour routes began to get bored with the gimmick.  Personally I blame the likes of Brock Lesnar, Chris Masters, Bobby Lashley and so on.  People were tired of the big bodybuilder just tromping through the roster of wrestlers and never facing any kind of challenge.   After a few more weeks of traveling around and crowd reactions dwindling more and more with every new stop, and some of our regular venues outright booing me, management had enough.

They billed a fairly new guy as the mysterious martial artist called Onyx, I was thinking the whole gimmick was just been there done that but the first place we debuted him was just hypnotized by this guy, his entrance, ring gear the whole package just had them eating out of his palm.  He did his little promo "I'm the new badass in town blah blah blah" slapped around a local no name for 4 minutes and left the ring to thundering applause.  I had to give him credit, he was certainly acrobatic and knew his way around the ring and obviously no stranger to the gym, but I'll admit I was jealous that I was fast becoming the "dead weight" around the locker room and watching this guy eat up my newly lost superstardom.

After his well received debut,  Onyx was billed to meet Atlas, and naturally win in an effort to boost the new guys star power and relieve some of the repetition of my appearances-a chink in Superman's armor as it were.  I wasn't excited about it, used to being on top and getting the adoration, but I wasn't going to be that guy whining to management about match outcome, so I took it in stride.

On the night of our first match I came to my locker as usual, it was a familiar arena in Northern California that we had come to many times before, and they were one of the most anti-Atlas crowds we had encountered.  People barely even approached me at our promo events when we first got into town so I was feeling pretty down by the time I had to gear up for the show.  I opened my locker and slid on my boots, knee high black leather with silver laces and fairly thick soles.  They looked like a monster to walk around in but they were actually pretty comfortable.  I pulled out my trunks, expecting the usual solid glossy black trunks that complemented the boots I had choosen.  Instead of my trusty solid black briefs however, they looked like somebody had rolled them through a bucket of glitter.  Shiny silver embroidery spelled my name across the ass and a clusterfuck of glittering curlicues and swirls dotted my trunks all over the place.  I figured now that I would be getting my ass kicked they wanted me to look more flamboyant and ridiculous. I just shook my head and pulled the trunks on, noticing that they rode a little higher than usual in back-ignoring my new bikini-ish tailoring I headed out to the entry ramp.

Humiliating Holds: Spladle

There are certain holds that for one reason or another, grabs the attention (and lust) of a wrestling kink enthusiast and can turn a match from bland to scorching hot in a matter of seconds.  One of these holds for me is the spladle.  Of course, it isn't too hard to figure out the appeal behind this hold- legs spread apart, knees by your head, ass in the air and the jobber is completely helpless to do anything about it, open to a grope, spanking or maybe go full out and fondle your jobber boy until he messes up his ring gear ;-)

Some pictures of this effective hold-which I believe isn't utilized nearly enough in erotic wrestling

Derek DaSilva Crotch Ripped

Josh Goodman in trouble

Trent Novak getting owned

Pretty Chip Chang gets ripped

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jobe Zander: Another Kid Vicious Victim

(Copyrighted Pics are from BG East and Rockhard Wrestling, images are linked to their respective webistes.  All other pictures in this post were taken from the web and no infringement is intended)