All-American Muscled Jobber

Jobber Chris Bruce

When you wrestle in Canada, sporting skimpy U.S. flag trunks, I guarantee you're in for a lot of ass kicking. This was pretty ironic since I'm Canadian myself, but it's a living.

I spent a short time in an erotic wrestling company in Toronto and the pay was pretty great, even better if you got the shit kicked out of you and looked good doing it. People may not necessarily respect it, but getting bitched in a wrestling ring can be pretty lucrative.

One of my highest paid (and most humiliating) matches was of course just before Canada Day at a nightclub so I decided to come out to the club's ring with my manufactured American spirit way over the top just to rile up the crowd that much more.

Dressed in my now trademark star spangled briefs riding low on my hips over a matching jockstrap, knee high rwb boots and an American flag over my shoulders, grinning at the laughing and boos as I walked through the crowd. I got in the ring and noticed an oil pit had been set up as well, hadn't known oil wrestling was on the menu, but that was fine too, just another opportunity to beat down the chump I was facing.

My opponent, Captain Canada (I know right lol) came out in a stark white rubber brief red maple leaf stretched over his bulging crotch, his white boots sporting a maple leaf at the toe a white mask over his face also decorated with a large maple leaf on his forehead. Not gonna lie, he was hot flexing for all the cheering fans and I could feel myself growing in my USA trunks.

As he rolled into the ring I folded up my flag and set it on the ring apron, as I stood up and turned Captain Canada wasted no time and charged across the ring. His boot (steel toe i soon found out) flew up and slammed into my face. The Canadian maple leaf was the last thing I saw before the world went black, poetic. So there I was laid out cold from one high kick from the Captain, this match was going well so far.

My eyes fighting to open as he dragged my groggy ass from the ring corner. After he slapped me awake he stood me up on shaky legs, the crowd loving every minute, he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to face the largest group standing around the ring, slid a hand between my legs and squeezed my balls hard. I hunched over moaning in pain, he quickly slammed a knee into my ass sending me head first into the ring post. I crumpled to the mat slumped in between the turnbuckles, barely a minute in this bout and I was already thoroughly owned in front of this crowd of horny men thirsty for blood.

Captain yanked my trunks up my ass showing the straps of my jock cupping my ass and jerked me out of the corner, grabbing a fistful of my hair and keeping his grip on my wedgied trunks he walked me to each corner, bashing my head into the top turnbuckle making two laps around the ring keeping me standing by his fistfuls of my hair and trunks.

The whole room was rocking back and forth as he snatched me around my legs were noodles and I was fighting to stay conscious. Captain Canada was grinding his bulge against my ass as he walked me around, turning me on and my pulled tight bikini trunks hiding nothing from the crowd as my cock throbbed, getting jeers from the crowd.

Twink Jobboy Brendan Byers

Suddenly Captain bent me over, my trunks now a thong held in his tight grip. He SNAPPED a strap of my jock against my ass laughing as I shouted in pain. Jerking me upright by my hair again he dropped to one knee slamming my back over his thick ripped thigh. Holding me bent over his leg he started pounding fists into my abs making me twitch with every shot breaking down the muscle. He gripped my bulge now tenting my thonged trunks and started to massage my aching bone, my flag trunks waving with every throb. "I think he likes it!" the crowd went nuts as he pulled me up to my feet once again, slapping my ass and taking a firm grip he lifted me up and SLAMMED me over the top rope jamming the rope between my legs, my balls and ass were on fire.

Adding insult to injury he punched me in the face sending me reeling. Keeping me on the ropes by a crushing grip on my bulge Captain kneeled down, untied my boots and knotted the laces to the rope. I tried to pull my legs free but they were tight. He SLAPPED my face bringing tears to my eyes my whole cheek stinging, then yanked up on the rope smiling as I groaned out in pain. He started jerking the rope up and down bouncing my balls and ass against the rough rope until I was sure my whole pelvis was raw.


He finally untied me sobbing and let me collapse to the mat. I laid on my back, my legs spread wide as I slide my hands over my aching balls and ass, wincing as my hands slid over my chafed taint and ass. I could feel the bunched spandex of my trunks rubbing and making things worse. I whimpered as I pulled out the wedgied trunks, first one side then the other, rubbing my ass, finally feeling relief I start to stand. I look up from my knees to see Captain smiling above me, that damn steel toe bashed my thick chest sending me flat on my face at his feet. My trunks were yanked up my ass again and I screamed as he jerked me to my feet rubbing into my still sensitive ass cheeks.

Captain jerked me into him rubbing his hard member against my ass making me moan and whimper in a blend of pain and pleasure. He walked me to the ropes again I felt his cock throb when I started begging him not to rack me again. Captain's hot breath washed over my ear as he whispered "don't worry Patriot, I never repeat myself.". He licked my neck and I felt his hand slide in my trunks, I moaned as his hand closed over my cock and I felt him throb against my ass again.

Captain Canada pushed my cock down pointing it straight ahead, hooking it under the bottom rope. I start to shiver as he takes his hand out of my trunks, gripping me again over my tight trunks, he jerked me side to side stroking my cock head against the rope. My legs quivered as he whispers again "You like that don't you?" I can only moan back.

I notice the crowd has gotten quiet, but I'm in no condition to pay much attention. Captain Canada locked his arms through mine and flexed lifting me off my feet. As a result my cock snapped against the rope as he lifted me higher. Then lowering me my cock pulsed as it pressed against the top of the rope. I cried out as my dick throbbed and snapped back under the rope. He kept lifting me up and down teasing my cock against the rope until I squirmed in his arms helpless to break the lock, "fuck please stop I'm gonna cum". My whole body was shaking as he pressed his lips to my neck "I know." I felt him smile before his teeth sunk into my neck as he flexed his arms and started to tease my cock faster until I threw my head back and a choked moan tore out of me as my cock surged and my cumload came seeping out of my trunks dripping over the top rope.

Finally released I started to collapse to the mat my cock still leaking the last of my load but Captain Canada wasn't done with me yet. He pulled me up and locked in a tight sleeper. Already barely conscious from repeated bashes to my head, it didn't take long before I went limp, KOd for the second time this match.

Captain Canada pulled me to the center of the ring by my feet, taking my boots off and tossing them out of the ring. He turned my limp body over with his foot, kicking my legs apart he dropped to his knees and slapped my ass, spanking me as the crowd counted until my ass was as red as the stripes on my wrenched trunks. He then jerked my trunks off of me leaving me in just my patriotic jock; red waistband and straps, blue pouch with a white star dead center. He pulled my arms back tying them together with my trunks.

Captain Canada pointed to the oil pit, his trunks showing a HUGE twitching bulge. "I think I need to lube this bitch up!!" the crowd went wild and parted making a path to the oil pit. Captain kicked my limp carcass under the ropes letting me fall to the floor. He vaulted over the ropes and landed his feet SLAM into my abs, I come to with a violent groan, my jock stirring as my cock grows in its skimpy prison.

Cameron Matthews takes a hard stomp

Captain Canada lifted me up in a fireman's carry, making me moan as he hooked a thumb in my ass and carried me to the oil pit.

He dumped me into the pit on my back, watching me struggle to pull free of my tightly knotted trunks as he removed his boots and stepped into the pit. "Now we can get to business" he said, his eyes and smile terrifying under the mask. He stomped my bulge but forced me to lay flat when I tried to lift my legs.

Captain Canada dropped one knee over my throat and cupped my bulge, teasing and stroking as he choked me out under his knee until my cock was screaming to burst from the tiny jock pouch doing nothing to conceal my dick from view. The white star dark from my stream of precum trickling out as he slowly edged me. He kept constant eye contact as I choked and sputtered writhing under him splashing oil all over us, making the whole situation even more intense and erotic.

As lack of air weakened me I could only moan softly, my struggles turning into my hips rolling against the Captain's hand as he massaged me.

Just as I could feel my vision blurring he lifted his knee and PUNCHED my abs a dozen times, then locked in a claw just above the waistband of my jock. I groaned as I arched up in pain and his fingers dug deeper into my destroyed ab wall. He leaned in close, his knee pressing into my throat again "who's my bitch?" he snarled. Pressing his full body weight into my neck, there was no way I could answer even if I wanted to, I gurgled and gagged as he pressed harder and clawed deeper. My eyes started to water and everything went silent as my air was cut completely. My lips pressed together as I struggled to say "Me! I'm your bitch please stop!!" but all I could get out were choked moans and gurgling noises. My eyes rolled back and I was out, three times knocked out in one match was a personal record.

Captain Canada grinned as I stopped struggling "close enough musclebitch." He got off me, my head lolled to the side, my mouth hanging slack letting some of the oil pool against my lips.

Captain Canada stripped his trunks off freeing his throbbing 8 inches. He balled up his trunks and tossed them into the crowd almost starting a fight among the horny on-lookers.

Captain Canada grabbed my waist and pulled me against him hiking my legs up and pressing his cock against my ass. He wiped some oil from the pit and coated his thick cock before pushing against my slick hole. He pulled my straps up a little and slid his hand under my jock gripping my cock he started to jerk me off. "gonna make this bitch wet his panties again boys!!".

Jobber Braden Charron

The guys were now all sporting rockhard wood in their tight jeans practically drooling watching their hero fuck my out cold body and jerking my cock under my skimpy jockstrap. My body twitched and quivered in muscle memory as he pounded away at my ass. Picking up speed bashing my jobber ass and jerking my cock faster, gripping me harder the crowd erupted as I shuddered and my 2nd loser load shot out of my abused cock, blasting right through the whisper thin pouch of my jock. Captain Canada pulled out of me and straddled my chest, jerking his cock the rest of the way home. He blasted his victory load all over my face, coating from eyebrow to chin in his thick milk. Standing up in victory, Captain Canada gripped the waist of my jock, jerked the straps up my ass into a thong and dragged me into the back room.

I was later found in the makeshift locker room still unconscious and hands bound, my cum soaked jock tied over my face my hair in a solid crispy helmet full of dried cum.


(Links provided lead to BG East Wrestler profiles, the proper owner of images used in this posting)

Gold Star Jobber

Every so often there comes a long a special kind of jobber, a jobber in its purest form, that gets into the ring week after week and invariably gets his ass handed to him by heels, faces, and sometimes even other Jobbers who are popular enough to get tossed a mercy win once in a while to keep the fans cheering.  These doormats, punching bags, chronic losers are what I like to call Gold Star Jobbers.  The grapplers who go their entire career and not manage to win a single bout-these are the jobbers truly dedicated to their craft of getting squashed and making it look good.
(Note: Just featuring my fave "top 5" if you will of Jobbers who to the best of my knowledge maintained a perfect 0 in the win column) 

1. Red Tyler  Imagine being a professional wrestler, having been in the ring for a respectable number of years.  After countless singles and tag matches against some of the biggest names in the industry in front of millions of fans live and nationally broadcast on television, you decide it's time to hang up the boots and retire quietly after a successful and (hopefully) respectably lucrative career.  Now after all of this time and energy dedicated to your craft, you loved your job and your co-workers were always a pleasure to be around; you would think that fans around the world would remember you for your ring presence, your dedication to taking bumps and putting over other wrestlers when called upon or your great relations with your fans.

Not Red Tyler, after years in the ring getting his butt kicked time and time again, he is remembered for getting epic wedgies-especially the one pictured below provided by Mr. Perfect.  All the time, energy, blood sweat and tears spent as a pro wrestler to put on a good show for the fans-and his identifier is a pair of green spandex trunks a mile high up his ass crack.  While not the first time I ever saw a pair of trunks get wedgied in a match, this was definitely the most dramatic, even the match announcers get a few jibes in at Red Tyler's expense at the end of this match up.  What a way to be remembered ;-)

 

Of course, Mr. Perfect wasn't the only one to send Red back to the lockers picking lycra out of his teeth, here's Ted DiBiase Sr. The Million Dollar Man getting in on the trunk yanking fun....He gets a little help from Virgil as well.

 2.  Kenny "Ken Doll"
Whenever someone mentions pro jobbers Kenny is one of the first thoughts that come to my mind.  With an ass that could crack walnuts, cradled in those 2nd skin trunks that always let just a little bit of cheek bubble out, handsome face and one of the best bodies in pro wrestling at the time Kenny was always a pleasure to watch.  I think the simplicity of his ring gear with the only "flair" being those initials on the ass of his trunks in contrast to a lot of the facepaint and over the top costumes (tassels and rhinestones and feathers oh my) of many wrestlers during that period was a big part of what made me enjoy watching Kenny (and Eddie Jackie, another Gold Star who had a similar ring gear setup).  Another element with Kenny is how excited he always got in the ring, putting his all into attempting to take down the heel but invariably all his effort being basically useless and ending up flattened on the mat. 

 

3.  Bob Emory
Bob Emory was a phenomenal jobber, suffering through what were probably some of the most humiliating squash matches I've had the pleasure of watching (and re-watching over and over on youtube lol).  One of the few who were even thrown out to lose to other jobbers, putting him at the absolute bottom of the proverbial totem pole in the wrestling world.  One of these famous "Jobbing for a Jobber" matches was Bob's bout against Curtis Thompson.  Some might call Curtis a face due to the fact he went on to gain some fame as Firebreaker Chip (Firebreaker? really?) but for the most part the bite size bodybuilder ended up down for the count and wore some amazing tiny trunks doing it ;-)

I haven't really sat down and tried to figure out the time line but I suppose this match could have been the springboard point for Thompson that sent him on to become the Firebreaker and knocked Emory the last few notches down to rock bottom jobbermeat.  On the upside, Emory had lots of opportunity in this bout to display his phenomenal armbar skills.

4. Eddie Jackie Poor cute little Eddie Jackie, he certainly always had an energy and spunk about him, but he invariably ended up down for the count. 

5. Mike Tolbert
I guess I can't really call Tolbert a gold star jobber as he did manage a win over Doc Dean, which is pretty sad considering the Dean's amazing record in Europe.  Unfortunately he wasn't one of the Intercontinentals the WWE felt like pushing much...or at all, so he spent time going down to punching bags like Mike Tolbert.  Sad, but at least we got to see Tolbert get the stuffing beaten out of him a lot.

 So cheers to these and all gold star jobbers out there and their dedication to being humiliated for our viewing pleasure :-)

Images and video are property of WCW/WWE none belong to me and were not used for any profit, solely entertainment.

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)

Tim is Wrestling: Straight Sunday

Tim is Wrestling: Straight Sunday