Quick Match: Sumo Lessons

"Looks like you got a package, roomie."

Sauntering into their cramped dorm room, a very sweaty Spike--dressed in a crop top and lycra shorts (leg day, naturally)--gently plopped the taped-up package down next to his roommate. Kengo, looking very cozy in his light blue bathrobe, was currently splayed out on the bed, reading a graphic novel--he was the very picture of comfort. 

The gentle-hearted, very large man yawned, placed his book down and glanced over at the package. "Hmm...this is..." His eyes grew larger. "Ah!"

Spike grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "All the labels are in Japanese so I figured it had to be yours. You know, since you're the only guy at the school who speaks it, I just kinda assumed..." Spike paused and tapped the side of his head. "You know, I seem to be fetching a lot of people's mail lately. Huh..."

"Yes," Kengo said enthusiastically, pointing to the set of kanji. "This is my name! It's from my mother! Oh, this is exciting!"

"Well, open it up, big guy!"

Kengo set about the painful and delicate process of opening the tapped up parcel, while Spike stood on tip-toes, whistling a tune, secretly hoping Kengo's family and friends back at the temple had snuck in a little treat for him. Spike knew Kengo wrote to them often, and always had lovely things to say about this roommate. 

Still, he didn't want to seem too greedy or singular focused. "So...whatcha' readin', buddy?" Spike said, in his fey Brooklyn lilt. And why does it take you so damn long to open up a fuckin' box, huh?

"Oh! Purple Rain of the Detective Gato. It's the 208th book in a mystery series about a teenage detective who turns into a cat when it rains." Kengo smiled. "It's been running for thirty years and the story is nowhere close to complete. It's great!"

"Sounds...like a real page turner, buddy."

At last, Kengo tore open the box. However, the sumo was methodical and precise, and so he first took out the greeting care lying on top. To Spike, it seemed like a rather drawn out and ceremonial process. Aw, C'mon, Kuma...Just tell me if your mom sent those fish-shaped waffle things with the jam inside them...

The sumo's eyes went misty. He wiped away a tear from his handsome face. "They are so proud of me and my spellbreaking. I don't know what to say."

"Aww, that's great," Spike said, patting his roommate on the shoulder--but really peeking over it to see what treats awaited him. He noted the beautiful, opaque, pink bottle. "Oh, that looks delicious and alcoholic now, don't it?"

Kengo had been so preoccupied with his mother's heartfelt writing, that he hadn't even noticed the present. "OH! Junmai-shu!"

"Bless you," Spike said.

"No, you himbo, it's sake!"

Spike's eyes went heart shaped. "I-I love sake."

"Then we gotta drink it!" Kengo said. He took out the bottle and gasped, picking up the delicate little sake cups, etched with jasmine blossoms. "Look! She sent two cups along too. Awww, and they're so cute." He continued reading the note. "One for you, and one for your pretty roommate!"

Spike could have swooned--this really was the best gift, alcohol and 'well-wishes' from a hot guy's mother. "Minami Oyama, you absolute angel. I'm seriously blushing."

It didn't take either Kengo or Spike long before the two roommates--beefy sumo and statuesque (yet short) twunk were sitting on the ground, clinking sake cups together in celebration.

"'Kanpai' is what we say for 'cheers,'" Keno explained.

"Hell yeah, kanpai!" Spike cheered, throwing back the tangy rice wine.

"N--no you don't take it like a shot! You have to sip it!" Kengo sighed. There really was no helping the blonde prettyboy. He was very sweet, but he had the useless enthusiasm of a barely trained puppy (and probably the wits to match). As Kengo lamented his roommate's lack of self-control, he happened to glance over at the opened care package. In his excitement, he failed to notice the other item, wrapped in pink tissue paper. "Hmm?"

Kengo removed the wrapping and looked down at the silky piece of undergarment--a fundoshi, traditional Japanese underwear, not unlike the 'gear' Kengo wore during spellbreaking matches. This pair was super soft to the touch, white, and stitched with a blue anchor. Kengo read the note. "This is also for your roommate. You mentioned how great his a--" Kengo coughed, stopping himself.

Spike grinned wickedly, his face turned read from the sake rushing to his head. "What was that?"

Now it was Kengo who went beet-colored. "Um...I must have mistranslated that. My mom got you a fundoshi, just like the one I wear. But with your signature logo on it!" He passed the garment to his friend, as if he was bestowing a crown upon a king.

He might as well have done just that. Spike nearly spat out his drink, and he looked as if he might be moved to tears. "Y-you don't understand what the gift of skimpy underwear means to me. I'm...verklempt. I don't know what to say!" Spike nodded and bolted onto his feet, nearly tipping his half-drank cup over. With a swift motion, he removed his pants with the deftness and precision of someone accustomed to frequently taking them off in front of others.

Kengo choked on his sake, seeing his roommate in his skimpy pink, bulging briefs. "S-Spike! What have I told you! That gets me...it gets me too flustered when you do that."

"Then turn around, I gotta try these on now!"

Kengo didn't understand why, but he did as told. Not that he didn't want to sneak a peek. Oh no, we're both getting drunk too quickly...

"Wait wait WAIT--don't turn around yet. I need...to complete...the look. Yes...hmm...a top knot will do. Okay, turn around and feast your eyes."

Kengo did as told. He gasped. Needless to say, Spike filled out his fundoshi well. In the sense that it looked like he was hiding a whole orange in the pouch. He'd also grabbed a hair tie and pulled his ear-length hair into a very small, petit top knot. The sailor boy struck a silly pose--which somehow made him even sexier.

Kengo tried to compose himself. "Hmmm...I think we shall call you the 'Slutty Samurai'!"

Spike scowled, crossing his arms, and turning away from his roomie. "I admit, that was pretty quick of you, Kengo." Of course, the former pinup knew what he was doing, positioning himself so his beautiful, sculpted bubble butt was on full display, the string of his fundoshi swallowed whole beteen his cheeks. "Make it Sexy Samurai, and you have a deal."

He's...so hot, Kengo thought, trying to ignore the tightening in his boxer shorts. "You look like you are ready for some sumo!"

Spike nodded, and then a devious look bloomed in Spike's eyes. "Hmm. Let's do it, big guy! Team me some sumo lessons!"

"What!? Like, right now?" Though the thought had honestly crossed Kengo's mind. Seeing Spike in that tight, cute fundoshi--well, it had certainly gotten the beefy spellbreaker's attention. Alcohol tended to leave Kengo more uninhibited. This was dangerous territory. All he knew was that he could trust Spike. Because, just like a rambunctious puppy, he was a pure soul...even when he was humping your leg.

Spike jumped up, and Kengo watched as Spike's bulge and round pectorals bounced rhythmically in motion as he did. "Yeah! Let's do it, roomie! I got access to the practice ring. Buck gave me an extra set of keys."

"What!?" Kengo blinked. "How did you get that!"

Spike demurred, scratching his head. "Let's just say my mouth did the work. Don't ask too many questions, big guy." He then took a more dominant, challenging stance, extending his hands as if to get ready to grapple. "What do you say, handsome bear? Go put on your signature gear and meet me in the ring. Think you can take on Spike--the Sexy Samurai--in a sumo match?"

Oh, I love when he calls me handsome bear, Kengo thought, blushing. But he never backed down for a challenge, and honestly--he'd had a secret desire to utterly squash Spike for awhile. He would probably look really cute getting sat on...

Kengo stomped forward, drawing his shadow over Spike, who suddenly realized he may have stepped out of line. "Remember, roomie--I am the big bear," he said, glaring down at Spike hungrily, poking his roomies bulge--right on the anchor. "You are just a cub." He drew closer, making sure his belly jutted right into pretty Spike's perfect six pack. "And you'll be my cub before the night is over. So, let's do it. Let me show you how a sumo squashes a brat like you."

Kengo was surprise at how intimidating he sounded--those informal lessons from Cian were starting to pay off! Unfortunately, Spike only got more enticed by intimation. The sailor boy (or samurai boy right now) winked at Kengo, and flexed both of his biceps. "See these? I've lifted bigger than you, Kuma. Just call me the bear tamer, cuz you're goin' down--roomie or no!" He tugged at his fundoshi. "I feel more powerful in this."

Oh no! Kengo gulped. Spike was going to use his raw sexiness against him! It was on. The gauntlet was thrown. Now, it was time to rumble. Sorry, roomie--but I'm gonna need to crush you!

Spike stretched his arms, elbow nestled into the crook of his right arm, as he smiled from his side of the ring. "You ready to get trashed, big guy?"

It was just Spike and Kengo in the practice ring. Being a weeknight, most of the other crew were in bed at this hour. Kengo, at the opposite end of the ring, removed his bathrobe and tossed it to the side of the ring, giving Spike an eye-full of his broad backside, ornamental strings of his signature fundoshi hanging off his large butt.

"Wow, Kengo, you've definitely been eating healthy lately." Spike wasn't shy about giving his opponent's their fair share of compliments. Plus, he had a weakness for big men. "Say, aren't you really shy around nudity? Why wear something skimpy like that"

Kengo did a squat, and Spike reeled back at the size of his legs, how far the trained sumo could bend over and touch his toes. His legs were like wooden columns, unmoving. "Oh, the ring is the only place where I don't feel shy!" Kengo said, smiling innocently. "Which is why I don't mind this kind of gear. I feel like a big, beautiful boy when I'm crushing cute little twerps like you." He narrowed his eyes, the innocence vanishing. "Maybe it's just the sake talking...but the prettier they are, the more I enjoy putting all my weight on them and watching them struggle underneath me! Hehehe."

Spike felt his cock twitch. "W-wow. I didn't know that about you. Hey, who taught you the word, 'twerp'? You should stop hanging out with Cian jerk! He's a wannabe heel anyway."

"I'll show you that I can be a bit of a heel too!" Kengo said, striding closer. Spike thought he felt the canvas shake beneath every one of his footfall. Maybe this had been a mistake...  

Spike stared down at Kengo. How could a guy have that much muscle and gut at one time? He was like a giant!

Well, call me the giant killer, Spike thought, confidently. "Ok, so sumo wrestling..."

Kengo nodded. "Well, we aren't in the type of ring we'd need, but one way to win is to push the other guy out. We can just focus on a standard pinfall for this match, if that's okay with you. No spellbreaking, but you're welcome to use your glyph if you think it means standing a chance against me."

"Are you being shady, punk?" Spike balled up his fist and shook it in front of the smirking sumo's face. He seemed...unbothered. "I can lift two of you. Two! Once I drop anchor on your sweet, adorable face, it's over! I win!" 

Kengo laughed, and then slapped his rather large backside for emphasis. Sounded like a rock hitting hard cement. "Same to you. Ok, let's start. This is how sumo wrestlers start the match. It's called shiko." He pulled one leg up and slammed it down, then the other. "It's to drive away bad spirits. But don't worry, the only bad spirit here is Minoru." He laughed. "And he really wants me to smother you right now for challenging me. You need to be humbled, roomie!" He slammed down his other leg. The canvas shook.

Spike gulped, and then mirrored his pal, raising his wiry legs and doing the same. But this only elicited laughter from his partner. "W-what! I just did what you told me to do!"

"Hahaha. No, it's just...it's just cute." Kengo leaned over and put both knuckles to the mat. "So cute I could crush you. Get ready!"

But Spike had anticipated this and shot first. "You're going down, big guy," Spike said, going for a takedown. But it was like charging head on into an oncoming train. Kengo practically bulldozed poor Spike, pushing him into the ropes and knocking him off balance.

"And you're going for a ride!" Kengo laughed. He wrapped his hands around the length of Spike's arms and lifted him straight up into the arm for a throw.

Spike sailed through the air--fundoshi clinging on for dear life--and had just enough time to realize that perhaps sumo wrestling while tipsy was not a good idea. He landed on his back, his spine taking the brunt of the fall, and the cold canvas searing his exposed butt-cheeks.

Before Spike could come to his senses, he heard a heavy footstep behind his head, and had just enough time to shout, "Wh-" before nearly 300 pounds of beefy bear brought the weight of his legs down on Spike's poor midsection, knocking the wind right out of him.

Kengo reclined, keeping his roommate and friend trapped underneath his meaty thighs. "You wanted a lesson, right? Do you give up?"

"Hell no!" Spike squeaked, activating his glyph, transforming the blow into his raw power--enough to push Kengo's beefy legs right off him. "I'm...I'm too cute to lose! You think you're the only one who can weaponize their fantastic butt? I'm the king!" Spike leaned back and threw out his legs, getting onto his feet in an impressive, athletic recovery--enough to impress his heavier opponent. Then, he pivoted on his feet and hip checked Kengo. "Get a taste, bear!"

But the blow only bounced off Kengo's belly. The sumo laughed. "Such a naughty little cub," he smiled, before he grabbed Spike with both arms and brought him in tightly. "How about a hug for your roomie?"

Spike thought back to one of the drive-in B movies he'd caught with Buck, how one of the monsters was a giant anaconda that wrapped itself around the hero hunk to crush him. It was a bit like that. Kuma's bear hug was no joke! Spike felt all of his bones and organs start to compress. "Gugh....ughhh..."

"Hehehe. Would be a shame if you wet that cute fundoshi now, wouldn't it? But I don't want to defeat you like this. It would be too boring!" But Spike's struggle against Kuma had an unintended affect. The bear looked down, seeing Spike's bulge grinding against his own. It felt...well, not unpleasant. Kengo blushed. "Hey...hey don't do that!"

Face reddening, Spike looked up at his roommate. A lightbulb went off (a rare occurrence for the blond, himbo hunk) "Oh, that feel good don't it?" He smirked and gyrated his hips. "What's wrong...bear...cub got your tongue?"

Ahhh, it feels too good! Kengo felt himself getting hard. If his fundoshi burst off, it would be just like losing. He had to act fast! So, he stiffened his back and, like carrying a bag of flour, charged forward towards the nearest post. "Sorry, Spike!"

"What--" was all Spike before he found himself sandwiched, abruptly and violently, between nearly 270 pounds of sumo beef and the cold, hard turnbuckle. His vision flashed white, and the next thing Spike knew, he was on his back, hands splayed out over the ropes.

Kengo had him exactly where he wanted him now. "Think you have the deadliest butt in spellbreaking, do you?" he challenged, glaring. Now, he meant business.

"N-no, Kengo, maybe I spoke too soon!"

"You won't be speaking after this!" Kengo said, as he turned around, making sure Spike got a good look at his round backside, before he backed up and drove it straight into his roommate, like two boulders crushing a tiny insect.

"OOF!"

"You make a comfy seat," Kengo said. He made sure to put all his weight on his opponent's body, even grinding down to really drain the stamina out of his humiliated opponent. When at last he felt he was being too cruel, he let up, turned around, and smile down at his crumpled roommate. 

"...uggggh..."

"Heh. Now's the part where you get crushed, roomie."

Kengo was all too excited to finish Spike off, but he wondered if his poor opponent could take this much weight and force at once! Still, as he climbed to the second rope, he remembered how tough his roommate was.

"K-Kengo, wait!"

Kengo sneered. He was actually enjoying this! "Get ready to taste defeat from my 1,000 Spirit Shattering Drop!" He bounced up on the rope for good measure, gathering momentum. "Kuma, crush!"

"N-" 

Was all Spike got out before Kuma jumped up and delivered a devastating bonzai drop. The whole ring shook as sumo met hunk, squashing him utterly!

Poor Spike felt his bones buckled under the weight. He might as well have a refrigerater dropped on top of him! Thank goodness for his glyph. And thank goodness Kengo hadn't activated his. His 1,000 Spirit Shattering Drop, when fuelled by Kengo's spirit power, didn't just crush his victim's bodies, but their souls too, completely robbing them of the will to continue the match...if they had any air left in them that it is.

The force was too much, and Spike briefly blacked out, eyes rolling into the back of his head. It was a total knockout!

Kengo struck his signature 'victor's pose, folding his arms around his chest as he stared down at his helpless, crushed prey. "Don't need to ring the bell to know you're done," he said, glaring down at Spike, who was just starting to come to. "I am the superior bear! GRRRR!" He thought of stripping Spike's fundoshi off, just to hammer home the point and really humiliate him, but he just couldn't do that to his beloved roommate.

Besides, he was already fully turned on from the beatdown, and dominating his beautiful muscle-bound friend had only added to it. He looked down and noticed how hard he was!

Spike's eyes fluttered open. "K..." he said, before he realized he was still trapped under the weight. He shifted, his face contorting into anguish. "Gah...g-get off me! Come on, man!"

Kengo looked down. "Aww you look so cute...w-wait, Spike stop squirming around like that!" His cheeks started to burn. Spike's wiggling under his butt was just making him harder.

"G-get off me! Grrr..."

"N-no, don't growl like that! S-Spike. I'm embarrassed. And I get turned on my being embarrassed!" He gulped, feeling the strings of his fundoshi start to give, as his cock stiffened harder. He was rock hard now. "Oh NO!"

No sense in trying to hold it back now. Kego's fundoshi tore itself off his body, and a thick piece of bear meat eagerly greeted the open air, throbbing and leaking precum onto Spike, unable to wriggle his way free.

Spike briefly tore himself away from his struggle, and the fact that he was another few seconds away from passing out from the weight of Kengo on his chest. His eyes lit up in awe and arousal at his bear friend's thickness and girth. "What! K-Kengo, you're....you're huge!"

Kengo looked away. He couldn't dare move off Spike now, if he wanted to. Any vibrations would risk...expulsion. "D-don't say that, Spike, you'll get me-...NO! S-stop moving. Oh no, Spike, I'm gonna...I'M GONNA..."

Spike's look of awe turned to terror, as he tried desperately to struggle and push Kengo off. But it was like trying to free himself from being trapped under a house. He wasn't budging, and judging from the look on his face, he was two second away from bursting. This was bad.

"W-wait! Kengo, not the face. Not the face!" 

"I-I'm sorry, roomie--" Kengo winced, as the full force of his orgasm took hold, and he roared like a bear in heat. "GRRRRRR!!!!"

Hands free. A jet of hot, wet spunk dripped onto Spike's chin and face.

"ACK!" Spike said, opening his mouth just a bit too early. He winced, letting a rainfall of muscle-bear wet his face. This was a true defeat...

Sighing and heaving from ecstasy, a deeply shy Kengo finally sat up, hearing Spike's exhalations of relief. "I....I am tired."

Spike sighed, barely able to wipe the rivers of cum leaking off his face, and struggling to catch his breath on top of it. "...I'm...I'm covered in big bear. Towel please."

"Y-yes, of course! I'm so, so sorry!"

Spike felt a towel hit his chest, and he used it to wipe all that Kuma off. Wasn't the first time Spike had found himself in this predicament, and likely wouldn't be the last.

"Nah, it's all good." Spike sat up, wincing and gripping his sore torso. He would feel this in the morning for sure. "Ugh...I can barely move. You really squashed me."

"That's okay, roomie! I'll carry you back." With relative ease, Kengo dipped down and scooped Spike into his arms, carrying him out of the ring. "Kuma cuddles are the best medicine!"

Spike had to agree. "I'm lucky to have a big guy in my corner like you, handsome bear. Even if you do squish me from time to time."

Kengo smiled. "It's a small price to pay." But maybe a good idea to lay off the sake for awhile...

Quick Match: Laundry Day Knockout!

Laundry day at the ring was Sailorboy Spike's least favorite day. Colt 'The Bolt', president and coach of the fed, insisted on cleanliness and hygiene as a part of the Global Spellbreaking Alliance's regiment.

Spike, content to hide a growing stack of pizza boxes under his bed (well, actually his roommate Kengo's bed) would have been content to allow his pile of underwear and jockstraps to likewise stack up. That was until, Buck--Colt's son and Spike's crush--casually mentioned how his father, the Cowboy King of the Ring, had once put a trainee in a Texas Cloverleaf for not cleaning the lint in the communal dryers.

He locked it on so hard, tears filled eyes...and he passed out before he could tap, and he had to wear a brace for a whole month! And then, to top it off, Yank, dad STUFFED the wad of lint in his unconscious mouth!

Colt of course, overhearing his son's tall tale, steamed under the collar and insisted he'd never do such a downright rotten thin as stuff lint in a trainee's mouth, jobber or no.

But, looking directly into Spike's eyes (with certain fatherly knowing) the muscle bound cowboy did say, "But the Texas Cloverleaf knockout is absolutely true, son." Then, distracted, he said, "'Course, I've always put my own spin on it and called it the 'Circuit Breaker'--electricity being my thing--which is just to hammer home to you kids that branding is essential and...hey, where y'all going!?

Spike had just finished his top-rope drills and was feeling pretty confident–and more than a little sweaty–when he noticed the laundry trolley outside the mat room next to the ring.

Great, he thought, as he collected his New York Yankees T-shirt off the floor, I can just toss this and head to dinner before Colt notices anything! Spike's stomach already rumbled; his mind on dessert. It was a churro night, a sacred and highly celebrated occasion among the other fighters. He'd need to get to the mess hall quickly or risk losing out...

And if I snag a few extra, I could probably bribe Kengo to ignore the pizza boxes under the bed. Hehehehe...

As Spike got closer to the laundry trolley, he noticed a splash of bright color sitting atop all the socks, shirts, singlets, and towels that had accumulated Heaven-knows how much sweat (and other bodily fluids) the last few days. Spike peered over the edge of the trolley and a tingle of mischief ran up his spine (which was still awfully sore from the killer backbreaker Icewolf had delivered him the other day as punishment for Spike making fun of his figure skating hobby).

Spike laid eyes on the undergarment that had captured his attention. It was an emerald green jockstrap–expensive looking too–with a generous pouch for whoever the well-endowed owner was.

Now, Spike was respectful of his fellow spellbreakers and trainees...but he was also a slut with an eye for good bulge, and he knew exactly who this sexy jock belonged to--Cian Enbarr, his rival, bully, and crush (the best triple-threat).

Ah, Cian. Red hair. Bulging muscles. Pale as a sheet--but it gave his body an almost Greek statue quality. He was mean and cocky and meaty.

Of course this was his jock strap, Spike thought, lustfully. Who else on the GSA campus could ever look as good in green as as 'The Faeblood Brawler'?

Well, maybe Tian Gio, Spike thought of the hairy muscleman, an Italian Tarzan...with a penchant for animal print. But, still...

Spike had lusted after Cian since their first encounter (on the night of Spike's sensational debut, no-less) but the Irish stud played hard to get. And speaking of hard, Spike was getting harder at the thought of picking up those little green jocks and giving them a good sniff. Dirty, of course, but not beyond Spike’s limits. Cian’s third and forth best physical features–besides his Rugby-champ legs and gorgeous green eyes, was, of course, his distractingly large bulge. Spike had longed to get his hands, or mouth on that…

“What the hell ya doin', boyo?”

Spike nearly jumped into the ceiling. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Cian had ninja-like stealth, and had a habit of getting the jump on Spike and scaring him witless.

Spike turned to face his fears. Cian, in his singlet, cheeks bright red and slicked with sweat from a workout. And worse, he had the devil’s look about him. 

“C-c-Cian, I can explain!”

“No chance,” Cian grinned wickedly as he tackled Spike and shoved him into the mat room with the force of a freight train. Spike’s glyph activated and took the blow, and the secondary impact from his face hitting the mat, but Spike wasn’t prepared for what happened next!

“N-no!” It was like watching an oncoming train. Cian wrapped his massive, steel-and-concrete legs around Spike before he could so much as squirm away or get to his hands and knees.

“You’re gonna get punished for messing with my stuff,” Cian said, sounding both pissed off and sadistically enthusiastic. “Time to become my newest sacrifice, boyo!”

A shot of adrenaline went through Spike's heart! No...the dreaded Pillars of Sacrifice! Spike had seen Cian trap his opponent's in this move before. There was no getting out--aside from a painful transition into unconsciousness! Cian had famously stated that nobody, heel or face, was allowed to tap out from it either--a promise he had made to his Celtic gods in exchange for power.

Little did Spike know, this was just a work Colt had cooked up for Cian, but Cian wasn't about to break kayfabe if it meant making his fellow trainees squirm just a little, and think twice about getting into the ring with him. The move had backfired only ince, when Robbie 'The Icewolf' seemed...quite insistent about asking Cian to practice it on him.

All of that was well and good, but not even Spike--the self-proclaimed 'Strongest Twink in the World'--could pry about Cian's massive, concrete-strong quads and thighs.

It was no use. Spike’s head was caught, like a fox in a brutally iron-clad beartrap. He felt the weight of Cian’s quads come from either side, compressing his throat and head like a vice. As much as he struggled and tried to back bridge his way out of it, there was no fighting it. His pretty head was being squashed like a grape!

“Cian…I give! I give!”

“Hahaha!” This only made the thick grappler squeeze harder, and Cian even positioned himself so his bulge was now right on Spike’s head. “After humiliating me in that match the other day, I thought I’d return the favor. Didn’t you want this in your face?”

“I…” Spike struggled to breathe. His feet struggled wildly, trying to grip the mat for any leverage. “I...never even touched your damn jockstrap.” He began tapping, annoyed he'd submitted but not wanting to get choked out in such an embarrassing way. Besides, he couldn't get KO'd now--it was churro night at the mess hall!

“I know–and I don’t care! You’re going out now, boyo. Going out for a nice little snooze…” Cian reared his head back in laughter. "Now...hear me gods, I consign this pathetic little calf to the Pillars of Sacrifice. Lord of the Dead, accept him into your abode! Night, night...boyo."

Spike’s vision blurred. He could hear the pulsing of his rapidly beating in his heart, as the oxygen and blood cut off from his system finally took effect and he thought his head might crack like an egg.

“...I…gi…..”

Spike's eyes rolled back into his head, and his vision tunnelled into black. Even still, just as he passed out, he could feel his trunks tighten just a bit with arousal--perhaps a by-product of the blood being cut off from his brain and a release of serotonin.  

For good measure, Cian cranked his legs one last time, giving Spike a little squeeze. A gurgle of air escape Spike's lips...and that was it.

Done. Out cold. Sacrificed.

Cian thought it was cute how Spike's pretty, blue eyes rolled up into his head and his limbs went slack. Still keeping his prey squeezed tight, Cian picked up Spike’s limp arm for good measure, letting it drop for the count.

“One…two…and…three.” The Irish beefcake kept his pretty blond friend locked up tight against his hardening bulge, and then got even harder as Cian flexed his bicep, giving it a good look over. “Who’s the fucking winner now, eh, boyo?”

Finally, Cian let deeply unconscious Spike free, his head falling against the mat like a brick. Poor little guy. Cian couldn't help but reach down and pat the side of his face in almost gentle manner, before he stood and planted his wrestling boot right on the pretty boy's washboard abs. 

“Sweet dreams, loser,” Cian said, as he wiped the sweat off his brow and flicked it down on the slightly twitching, defeated twunk laying flat on his back. Then, a wicked eye came to mind.

How could he make this even more satisfying?

Cian reached down and pulled Spike up, easily flinging the twunk over his back in a fireman's carry. He was a lot lighter than he expected! Cian carried his opponent real slow, over to the laundry trolley outside.

He laughed. This is too good! Wait, but am I being too mean? Then he remembered what Spike had done to him. He'd put him in his Sailor's Knot submission, splaying Cian's legs open for Victor, Gio, and Kengo to leer at.

A humiliation he would not soon forget...

Nah, this was perfect!

Like dropping a sack of potatoes, Cian flung Spike onto his back amid sweat-stained shirts, underwear, and other pieces of fighter-worn laundry that was a few days past when it should have been clean.

What a nice little bed for a nice jobber, Cian thought, as he yanked his green jockstrap out of the bin, right next to Spike's face. He'd actually been wearing this one when Spike had submitted him two days ago--and wouldn't it be a bit of poetic justice, some salt in the wound, if he used it to pile on some extra punishment?

“You enjoy your dreaming session, Ol’ Spike. Sorry you’ll miss dinner--but I got you your dessert right here....you know, since I'm such a nice guy." He pressed his finger to Spike's lips, parting them slightly, before he slowly shoved the pouch of his sweaty, worn jockstrap into Spike's mouth, making sure it was tucked in there real tight. "Awww, don't that taste better than cinnamon and sugar? You can suck on that for awhile, loser."

Spike, worlds away, his brain still trying to reactivate, only responded with a muffled, unconscious groan. As if to add insult to injury, one of Colt's tight, well-worn, white briefs fell over his face. Double the humiliation.

He’s actually really cute when he’s knocked out, Cian thought, giving his junk one last tug before he left Spike to be discovered by the laundry team later on. Cian flicked the ring room light off and left his buddy to his forced slumber, satisfied that yet another muscle stud had fallen to his muscles.

"Better luck next time, boyo.”

The End

Vahni Rage

                                                                                                                                                                        Character Artwork by Phantom Tommy

Given Name: Kanhu Ray

Age: 35

Birthday: April 1st

Height: 6’5”

Weight: 255 Lbs 

Country of Representation: India

Fighting Style: Heel techniques 

Glyph: Pyr (Fire Magick) Note: In India, this Glyph is known as the Mark of Agni

Power Finisher: Agneyastra

Submission Finisher: The Funeral Pyre 

Favorite Food: His mother’s cooking

Likes: Hurting people, money, tailored suits, wristwatches, sunglasses, travel, being the best, winning, pretty men, politics, Mumbai, visiting temples, big parties, champagne, rasgulla,  business, Spike.

Dislikes: Jobbers, those who challenge him, sentiment, whiners, weaklings, playing fair, mercy, those who are cruel to animals, tag teams, Spike.

When you enter the ring with 'The Rage', there’s just one question–will he leave you utterly broken…or burnt to a crisp?

Everybody loves a bad guy, and Vahni Rage is all too happy to play the villain in every pathetic spellbreaker’s story. ‘The Rage’ (as he is sometimes called) is a handsome nightmare and giant of a man who lives for beating down his opponents and bringing the heat to the spellbreaking circuit. 

Born in Odisha, Vahni’s uncle later moved the family to Mumbai to better administer the soma refineries under the family’s control. Before soma became an industry, however, Vahni’s family came from a line of esteemed temple protectors known as the Fire Guardians, all whom expressed the fire glyph. The men were charged with both protecting the priesthood and the women were expected to tend to the temple hearths and braziers. However, after a schism within the family lineage, Vahni’s rather large family split–with the traditionalists staying behind to carry out their scared tasks, and the more modern set taking control of the soma business. 

It’s no wonder that Vahni, therefore, always had a shrewd mind for business and though his tactics are underhanded, outside of the ring he is a professional. He is a major shareholder in one of the most important soma mines in the world, something that no doubt caught the eye of Simeon Grigorivich, the president of Firebird Pro Spellbreaking, who approached Vahni early on to be part of Firebird’s star talent. Vahni quickly made short work of their roster and began taking on champions in Asia and Europe. His popularity allegedly surged during his early days when, not realizing the extent of his pyrokinetic abilities, he accidentally burnt all of his gear off his body–earning him a hefty fine from the centos but thousands of new fans! He has since switched to flame-resistant gear.

Vahni is heel to the core, and willing to do anything to win a match, including ignoring both the ref and the cries of his opponents! He is proud, confident, and cocky, though this sometimes stems from an earnest desire to see more representation of South Asian spellbreakers on the scene. Though he would never admit it, he plays up his warrior nature in the hopes it might someday open the door for other spellbreakers from his part of the world. Still, don’t let these hints of altruism fool you–Vahni is one of the most sadistic spellbreakers around. He has an appetite for especially pretty or innocent-looking spellbreakers and crushing them utterly. A favorite tactic of his–that gets all of his equally sadistic fans going–is giving his opponents (or victims) a ‘crimson mask’ (bloody face), and then lighting the fresh blood on fire to temporarily blind his opponent. His fire is so intense that it can also cause permanent damage, which he employs in giving his defeated combatants the ‘mark of humility’ , a permanent facial brand that marks them as conquest. Many a spellbreaking career has been cut short because of foolishly stepping into the ring with this menace! Vahni is not often satisfied unless he has drawn blood or broken at least one bone, and conveniently ignores the match bell, not letting up on his beatdowns until he’s bored of his victim’s limp body.

Outside of the ring, Vahni enjoys the finer things in life, and he spares no expense at keeping up his hedonistic lifestyle. He enjoys flaunting his wealth–expensive suits, watches, cars, you name it. He enjoys that this makes him appear to the public even more like a dick, but he has secretly ensured his rather extensive family’s comfort. Rumor has it even moved his own mother into his Mumbai mansion because he couldn’t bare to live without her cooking…though the reporter who leaked this fact has since gone missing. 

Vahni first laid eyes on Sailor Boy Spike during the up-and-comer’s debut match, and has hungered for a match with him ever since–mostly to destroy him and end his career! He is truthfully attracted to Spike, but this is not necessarily a good thing, as Vahni’s bloodlust always spells certain doom for the objects of his desire/destruction. He yearns for the day when he’ll make Spike bleed, cry, and then give him his permanent mark. The heat between them quickly becomes the talk of the spellbreaking world–the perfect hero vs villain matchup–and Vahni plays into this all too well, as a perfect business opportunity.  

Vahni’s fight style is brutal and flashy, employing an array of heel moves designed to maximize pain and damage. Anything from backbreakers to eye gouging is on the table! It’s all the same when it comes to harnessing the powers of his glyph, as Vahni has been known to literally breathe fire into his opponent’s faces (mostly boy-next-door, all-American types). His most infamous move, and one of the most feared moves in all of spellbreaking, is his Funeral Pyre, a torture rack that–if weren’t spine breaking enough–culminates in Vahni literally lighting his opponent’s body on fire with his own extreme heat! To this day, nobody has escaped it, nor has Vahni ever listened to a yield or tap. Vahni’s luckier opponents will instead meet his equally vicious Agneyastra, a brutal backbreaker over his scalding knee, leaving both a massive burn scar and a broken spine!

Though he won’t tell anybody, his real name is Kanhu. 

Rage's 'Funeral Pyre' finisher is a torture rack with the added sensation of being grilled alive! Ever the sadist, Rage has even forced his jobbers to choose 'broken spine or burnt to a crisp' before! Thankfully, the power of soma makes all injuries--even the most deadly looking ones--temporary. That is, except for Rag's cursed 'mark of humility'!

Rage makes an entrance by burning off his entrance gear!

He knows he's about to be marked...

Spike and Rage are sworn enemies. Still, there is an unspoken tension between them that isn't all negative. One might even call it an attraction!

Battle Quotes:

“Burn in the presence of greatness!”

“Pathetic...”

“Ignore that one, ref, or YOU'RE NEXT.”

“Too much pain? Don't worry, I'll fix that...”

“Have a preview of Hell...because that's where I'm about to send you!”

“And now my brand is burnt into your worthless flesh forever...”