"IT'S SNIP SNIP TIME! HAHAHAAHA!"
With his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a rabid dog, and shears snapping maniacally in the air, El Peluquero walked the ring, hungry to sink his scissors into his opponent's hair. Wrist tapped and clad in red and black tights, he eyed the bag of barber tools—razors, electric shavers, an assortment of other scissors—nestled up to his corner post. The thought of unleashing his little goodie bag on an unconscious, defeated, and humiliated El Amante Intóxico practically made him hard!
The crowd in the humid El Paso auditorium had gathered to see El Amante challenge Peluquero. Even though it was a last-minute card, the event had filled up so quickly that an impromptu barbeque had been set up outside the back for all the fighters and attendees. It was smaller venue, to be sure, but the atmosphere was positive. But Peluquero would have never chosen such a backwater dump if it didn't mean getting to humiliate his pretty boy nemesis in front of all of his adoring fans!
El Amante's fans, who he affectionally called his "Lovers", booed loudly at El Peluquero, but nobody shook their first harder at him than Icarus, his most recent victim (and one of El Amante's pupils). He had since covered up his forced buzz-cut with a blue cap. He had chosen a white button up and blue pants, a modest outfit in keeping with his upstanding and polite character. Several older women in the audience nodded to him in approval, wishing he could be their son or nephew.
Iggy, wearing a tight fitting, pink crop top with the big, black 'C*M SLUT' across the chest, yawned. They were more interested in the greasy bag of churros they'd bought earlier (they had scalped an El Amante fan outside by selling him one of his used night shirts, and so felt inclined to a little treat).
"Wanna see me fit a whole churro into my mouth?" Iggy asked, holding up a big stick of cinnamon. He winked at Icarus.
The baby-faced fighter grinned awkwardly. "Er...no thanks?"
"Boring." Iggy deep-throated the delicious confection in one bite. They tossed their dyed, pink hair back over their shoulder. "You excited to see my hunky boyfriend make an ass of himself on your behalf, pipsqueak? Ah, but what an ass it is..."
"I will always support my mentor!" Icarus said, proudly. He looked at the bag in Iggy's hands. His stomach rumbled. "Um..."
"What? Good little doggy want a treat?" Iggy dangled the churro just over Icarus' head, tantalizing him with the promise of sugar and fat. With zero hesitation, Iggy stuck out his (distractingly long) tongue and licked the stick up and down, sexually, before holding it out to Icarus. "You still want it?"
Without missing a beat, and maintaining eye contact all the while, Icarus leaned in and bit the tip of the churro, snagging the rest before Iggy could pull it away.
Iggy blinked. "...Oh meu Dea!" they exclaimed, hand to their chest and jaw open in amused shocked. He gave his annoying sidekick a flirty glance. "I think I'm actually starting to like you, good doggy."
"The feeling is mutual. Now, let's watch my teach kick this bad doggy's tail!"
Iggy and Icarus fist bumped in agreement.
Back in the ring, El Peluquero stretched his arms across the ropes, tugging and bracing like a vicious animal tethered to the post. "My scissors hunger for the hair of El Amante Intóxico! Where is the boytoy!? I wanna BREAK HIM!"
"Looking for me, chulo?"
The villain's loud challenge was drowned out by a steamy, sensual, reggaetón beat and an accompanying change of light. Soft pink and purple tones breezed over the audience, and even the mood in the room altered from tense excitement to indulgent desire. From out of a rainfall of translucent rose petals, a dashing—and physically imposing—silhouette materialized at the entrance arch.
El Amante Intóxico, a warrior with many epithets, stood tall and proud. The Warrior of Love. The Violet Scorpion. The King of Romance. Victor. Whatever the name, the muscular hero, caped in rich fabrics of vermillion, citrine, and turquoise, bowed deeply to the crowd, stretching his hands out likewise as if to embrace the affection returned to him. The tecnico luchador rose from the ground and walked the aisle, high fiving and shaking hands with his beloved supporters. A blown kiss knocked over a trio of female fans with the force of a gale-force wind. A wink in the direction of a male admirer caused him to pass out on the spot. Such was the potency of El Amante's power!
"Hello, beautifuls," the masked stud said to the camera as it swivelled around his luxurious form, still concealed within the folds of his robes. Behind, the camera man swallowed and became instantly erect.
In-ring, El Peluquero scowled and spat at the ground. How dare this nuisance strut around and preen like a peafowl, wasting his time, delaying the inevitable? He would be shaved bald for such insolence!
El Amante Intóxico politely wiped his boots on the ring apron before sliding slowly, and sensually, through the ropes. After another dramatic 'kneel-and-bask', El Amante stood and tore off his fantastic robe.
GASP!
Speaking of peeling off, the audience peeled off into screams and moans, watching the buff, muscular, and oiled-up El Amante strut his stuff. He turned and danced in step with the music. A little two-step here. A bit of male revue there. A whole lotta' bachata. El Amante wove it all into an erotic display of masculine beauty and physicality. His thrusts weren't the juvenile jack hammerings of a selfish lover, but a gentleman who knew how to please his lovers.
For that was the secret (or at least, one of many secrets) and Love's Champion. His was no gimmick. Seduction was his sword, and compassion his shield. He wasn't in this fight for pride or ego, but to right a wrong done to someone he cared for deeply.
Plus, his lover was there to watch him look good kicking ass!
El Amante stopped and cupped his ear to the audience, motioning for them to give him more love. They gladly did so, in abundance. In return, El Amante pivoted around, jiggled his (distractingly large) glutes, bent over, and tore off his pants.
In the audience, Icarus clapped one hand over his mouth, looked down at his lap, and cupped the other somewhere more urgent. "Oh..."
"Get used to it, kittne," Iggy said, trying to hide the fact that he was madly in lust.
"Wait, is it doggy or kitten? Can you be consistent?"
Iggy looked over Icarus, before he pulled him into a headlock, kissed his face, and whispered into his ear as Icarus struggled to breathe. "It's whatever I want it to be, twink. Got it? Now, watch the show."
"H-h-harder."
Again, Iggy's expectations were thwarted. He let Icarus go. "Heh. Maybe later."
As El Amante flexed and preened for his watchful many, Peluquero stood back and growled. Only he appeared immune to El Amante's charms. In fact, he snarled and foamed at the mouth even harder. How dare this little sissy get all this attention!
But that killer body...
No! Peluquero shook the very thought from his dark mind.
El Amante's trunks were coordinated with the colors of his robe and mask, a butterfly design. He made sure the audience got a good look when he teasingly circled around and began to pull his trunks down—in a strip a tease—showing off his lucky red thong, giving the audience behind him a hint of his bare, bubble butt. Just a hint.
"I gave him that for his birthday," Iggy whispered in Icarus's ear.
"You can't be a total villain then," the younger luchador said, tugging on his collar to release steam.
"Just doing the Goddess' work, kitten."
The dowdy, pot-bellied ref—who had been watching at a safe distance—finally approached El Amante for the pat down. El Amante allowed it, but not before striking a seductive pose in the corner, complete with a rose in his mouth (...nobody had noticed where or whence he had produced the flower)
As soon as the ref was satisfied (he had been chosen as one of the few refs in the area who could put up a resistance to El Amante's powers) the gracious luchador plucked the rose from his mouth and offered it to the ref.
The older gentleman looked at it for a moment. "Oh...that's...nice of you?" He did, however, politely accept the gift, before walking off to the center of the ring. "Nobody's given me flowers in so long. How thoughtful!"El Peluquero approached his prey with a fiendish hunger. He licked his lips, sizing up the luchador's long, luxurious hair, hanging tantalizingly over his massive pectorals. "Look at that stupid, girly mask!" he spat. "What, too scared that I'd snip-snip your precious family heirloom?"
El Amante crossed his arms, giving the photographers his 'signature' pose. He would spare El Peluquero his attention when he was good and ready. "Hmph! I have no fear of wearing the mask of my father, and his father before him. Nor do I fear anything womanly—for there is no shame in being a woman! Besides, I prefer pretty accessories. Soft things look good on such a hard body, no?"
El Amante leaned towards his opponent, flexing gracefully in a bodybuilder's posing sequence, turning each time to a different quadrant of the room, which likewise exploded into cries of excitement (as well as more...intimate reactions).
First, the arms--bulging biceps, triceps, and shoulders.
"I am from a proud line of fighting men, who have known both heroism and villainy, hope and despair!"
Next, the back. Rippling like a stormy sea.
"This mask you see was created by the son of one of the greatest spellbreakers ever known! And was fabricated by none other than my talented cousin, who shares the spellbreaking legacy of my family!"
The legs followed: quads, thighs, calves, that would make lovers and foes alike tremble to behold.
"Friends. Family. They are whom I hold most precious, and whom I will always protect! I draw power from them!"
And finally, the pecs. BUT! El Amante didn't just give the crowed a simple pec bounce and flex. Oh no. He wowed them with a full-on climactic, orgasmic 'most muscular pose' set, which culminated in El Amante roaring and sticking his tongue out like an Aztec warrior of yore.
"Just as the scorpion sheds its skin, so too does the caterpillar become the butterfly. I am El Amante Intóxico, Love's Champion! I transform despair into love, and love into strength!"
At this point, those with heart conditions had already left the room on advisement of the production staff, with little old ladies and aunties collapsing in the aisle, swooning in deep adoration. The venue had to crank up the AC just to keep the room temperature down! Hardy men fainted, or otherwise found their sexualities changed in an instant, with complete and total acceptance of themselves (for that is what El Amante would want). In the rapturous and frenzied lust brought on by El Amante's flexing spree, two soccer players in the back of the audience immediately pounced on each other and began making out, madly confessing their unrequited love for each other (they would go on to be married in months. El Amante would received a lovely card and bouquet for his efforts).
"Yeah he does this sometimes," Iggy said nonchalantly to nervous Icarus. The light magi crumpled the empty churro bag into a little ball. I should put bird boy here to good use and have him fetch me some more.
The bell had already rung, but both luchadors were happy to take their time sizing each other up and otherwise intimidate the other. The magnanimous and magnificent El Amante took a gentlemanly knee in front of his opponent. He held out a single-stemmed rose (again, nobody knew how it had suddenly appeared it in his hand) to his opponent.
"A token of sportsmanship," El Amante said with bright, watery eyes. "We may be opponents, but that does not mean we cannot be amigos!" He cocked his head slightly to the audience. "Or perhaps...something more?"
The audience cheered. "Take the rose! Take the rose! Take the rose!"
El Peluquero pointed innocently at his chest. "F-f-for me?" he said, looking at the audience for approval. He scratched the back of his head, shyly, and took the flower in his hands...
Before shoving the rose blossom into his mouth and biting down on the stem! The mad dog Peluquero chewed up the generous gift and then SPAT rose petals right on El Amante's handsome, masked face.
The audience gasped at the unsportsmanlike display. But nobody gasped more than Iggy Astro. "Oh no!" they whispered. Then, their face contorted with sadistic mischief. "Or should I say, 'Oh yes?'"
"What?" Icarus asked them dumbly. "He just...spat it out into teach's face?"
"Your 'teach' has his limits, doggy. He prizes honor and compassion. And now...he has been crossed." Iggy shivered. "Oh, I cannot wait to see my big stud put the hurt on this fool!"
Patient, and without taking his eyes off his opponent, El Amante wiped the saliva-soaked petals off his face. He stood.
Peluquero pointed and laughed. "HAHAHA! What a sap! What a moron! Oh, you think you're scary trying to tower over me? EAT MY FIST!"
The long-haired dastard shot a lightning-quick punch aimed right for El Amante's aquiline nose, an attempt to break it off and disfigure his foe. Nobody could dodge a punch like that, not even El Amante!
And he didn't.
Because he caught it instead.
Peluquero stared in wide-eyed horror, trying to free his hand from El Amante's iron grip. The blank-eyed luchador's face remained unchanged as he tightened down harder. Peluquero heard his knuckles start to crack. He grimaced.
"I shall transform your pride into humility!" El Amante shouted. "You cannot hope to defeat love!"
He dragged the barbarous barber's meaty forearm forward and dropped to his knees, picking him up in a fireman's carry. Peluquero didn't even have time to react, finding himself spinning on El Amante's shoulders and then tossed through the air like a sack of garbage.
SLAM!
El Amante went for a rope dash, bouncing off with graceful fluidity. He would plant an elbow of love and justice on the evildoer's face or chest (El Amante would figure out which when he got there...)
But Peluquero tougher that El Amante suspected. He dove out of the way at the last minute, allowing the luchador lunk to hit the canvas and hit his elbow painfully on the hard surface! El Amante cried out, just as his rival got back onto his feet.
"Idiot!" Peluquero snarled, kicking El Amante's head, rattling his brain. The audience reacted likewise. Music to the bad barber's ears!
Still, El Amante shook it off, making a stunning recovery. He struck a confident pose, earning him more of the audience's favor, recharging his power. "That all you got, villain?"
Out in the crowd, El Amante's studious sidekick applauded for his teacher. "This is a good show," he said to his mentor's lover.
"My matches are much more interesting," Iggy pouted, haughtily. "But...I do not deny that my masked man is a stellar performer." They winked. "In a ring, or a in a bedroom."
Chest slicked with sweat, and matted, curly hair sticking to his collar bone, Peluquero blew a stray lock from his face. He shook with fury. "Time to step into my barber shop, prettyboy," he seethed. "Let's give you a complimentary shave!"
El Amante's eyes darted towards the villain's bag of tricks propped up against the corner post. It moved, opening of its own volition. A series of objects shot out from the top like bullets, faster than El Amante's eyes could follow. They soared through the air, coming to a circular orbit around their master's head. A straight razor. Another pair of scissors. And...was that a surgical knife too!? The sharp bladed glinted in the ringside lighting, matching the cutting grin of their owner.
"A metal user!" El Amante declared. "How exciting!"
"That studly bod of yours ain't gonna look so pretty once it's cut into ribbons!" Peluquero laughed evilly. He sent out his blades, shooting through the air like arrows. "What's loverbody gonna do now? Oh, that's right. BLEED!"
El Amante knew some basic boxing techniques, and his footwork was excellent by virtue of having been a dancer. He dodged the first knife with expert precision, earning him an "OOH!" from the audience. The scissors, snapping like the jaws of an alligators, darted right for his eyes. El Amante flipped back and bridged—indirectly showing off his amazing bulge as he did. He recovered, stood, and blew his opponent a kiss.
He did not like the way Peluquero was still smiling...
SHICK!
The pain was sudden and sharp--hitting El Amante just as he realized his error. The metal user's blades could be retracted back at their user's commands. As El Amante turned to avoid the straight razor, the knife dug deep into his bulky shoulder. A spray of blood—violet in the soft pink aura surrounding the luchador—splashed the mat.
The assault didn't stop there! The barber tools swarmed El Amante like angry bees, diving in and slicing at his flesh with each successive strike. It was a death by a thousand little cuts! The perfect sadistic torture.
Iggy and Icarus leaned forward in distress. "No!"
"Enough spilt blood," El Peluquero started, "and you'll pass out! And then...your pretty hair will by all mine!" He stepped forward and demanded the ref go to his opponent's side to ask him if he wanted to to throw the fight! Passed out or awake for the humiliation, the luchador's hair would be his.
The ref glanced nervously at the blade swarm, a blur of silver and red. El Amante was in that swarm somewhere, on his knees, bracing and groaning against furious slashes.
"I'm not going in there," the ref said to the heel.
El Peluquero snarled and grabbed the middle-aged man by the collar, but he let go as soon as he realized he still needed him to call the match. "Fine!" he said, snapping his fingers.
The blades dropped to the ground, in a pool of violet blood. Hair draped over his head like a veil, El Amante trembled on hands and knees, dripping blood onto the mat.
Peluquero drew close, ready to pin the cut-up hunk.
But El Amante stood! As did the crowd likewise go to their feet to applaud. They shouted out words of encouragement to their icon.
The sweaty and bloody luchador dusted off their shoulder, as their wounds healed with the blessing of the soma elixir both fighters had taken before the match. "Pierce my flash and sunder my skin, foe. My blood runs red with passion!"
"How's he doing that?" Icarus asked Iggy, stupefied. "How could he withstand the pain and bloodless?"
"Pure determination," Iggy said. He smiled. "That's my boyfriend."
"Geez, Iggy! If he could tame a heel like you, he could probably tame anybody, right?"
"Who said he tamed me, punk?" Iggy shot him a dark look, but retracted it. "Heh. You're his apprentice, so I'll let you on a little secret. I'm not really a villain you know. El Amante's ideals are in line with mine. To fight for that which you care and adore...there is no greater human endeavour. We make a good pair, him and I. For he is the guardian of love, and I am the guardian of beauty! I guess you could say we're the disciples of Venus!"
"Hey, that'd make a good tag team!"
"Hmph." Iggy gave it some thought. "Actually...credit where it's due, bicha, that's not a half-bad suggestion..."
Back in the ring, a shocked and (now scared) Peluquero took one step back.
"How...are you still standing?"
"What, you think your little scissors could tear down a hunk like me!" El Amante grinned and bounced his pecs up and down, in an almost hypnotic fashion. "You want scissors? I'll show you scissors!"
El Amante used the power of surprise to jump into the air and wrap his legs around El Peluquero's neck in an acrobatically impressive setup for a hurricanrana. Peluquero had no defense! With the sheer power of his tree-trunk legs, El Amante used the moment to flip his nemesis over and slam him down onto the mat.
"Ugh, my neck." Peluquero shook his head, trying to recover. He needed to get away! Screw the rules! Peluquero rolled out beneath the bottom ropes and onto the floor to put distance between himself and his opponent.
"Where do you think you're going, bastardo!" El Amante pointed at the dazed brute struggling to get to his feet outside the ring. The luchador smiled. He turned a shoulder to the audience and made a 'heart' sign with his hands.
"This is..." Icarus said, realizing the setup. "He's gonna..."
El Amante pivoted on his boot heels and ran towards the ropes, bouncing off to get the momentum he needed. "Fly swift, Cupid's Arrow!" he said, diving through the ropes in a tope suicida, sailing through the air towards his target!
"What?" Peluquero said as he turned around just in time to see a missile of muscle careening towards him. "OH SH--"
WHAM!
A light show of rose petals and broken hearts burst forth from the dynamic collision. The blast force knocked Peluquero clear into the crowd. A group of angry uncles booed and covered the dizzy-eyed heel in their beer. Iggy, a few rows away, chucked his crumpled paper ball from the churro bag at the villain's head. He'd enchanted it too—upon contact, it planted a comical, glowing bullseye on his head.
El Amante, who had landed among the audience, stood up—towering over his admirers. In awe at this god among them, and unable to contain their lust, they began to claw and tap his beautiful butt.
"It's ok!" El Amante said to his admirers, winking. "You can touch El Amante!" He flexed for them, giving his fans what the wanted. Three separate hands began to paw and clamp down on his biceps, accompanied by gasps and moans of approval.
El Amante gave his admirers one final blown kiss before he looked over at his beer-soaked opponent , noticing the target. "What?" He recognized that light graffiti. He turned to give a disapproving look to his lover, a few rows away. Iggy whistled, pretending he hadn't done anything.
El Amante sighed. "You heels are such trouble!" He reached down and grabbed the dizzy and delirious barber by the hair. He tossed him over the barricade as if he weighed nothing. El Amante climbed over in pursuit, stopping only to make sure the handsome daddy behind him got a very good look at the red thong strap sticking out of his muscle butt, before he hitched up his trunks and moved in on his enemy.
Peluquero sailed through the ropes and back into the ring, landing painfully on his back. El Amante wasn't just quick, but powerful too! And the more love and admiration he absorbed, the stronger he got!
"Do you feel the love now?" El Amante said, stepping over the ropes. He did another little strut for his audience, shaking his butt for the finish. "Do you see now, villain? I give everything to my admirers. The love they give back is precious. It fuels my being! Heh, it even fuels my muscles." El Amante flexed his bicep and gave it a kiss. "Mmm...peaky."
Sweaty hair fanned out around him on the mat, Peluquero tried to raise his head. He had been shaken up good. "You...damn...prettyboy!"
El Amante stepped over his downed opponent, boots planted on either side of him. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down. "Shall I finish you off? Perhaps I will not cut your hair off if you apologise nicely." He traced his pupil's aura—his 'love connection'—and found him among the audience like the brightest star in the night sky. He pointed. "Apologise now to that prince of the skies, whose beautiful hair you cruelly robbed!"
Icarus pointed to himself and mouthed, me?
Yes, you! El Amante mouthed back. He made his 'heart' hand gesture again. I love you!
Icarus' eyes rolled back in adoration. Next to him, Iggy's eyes also rolled back...out of annoyance.
"Take this!" Peluquero shouted, bolting up. He clawed the back of El Amante's trunks, hoping to get a solid grip and pull him down to his level. He'd wail on his stupid face until it was so puffy and bruised that it would bulge out of his mask's eye holes!
But Peluquero overshot his mark. Instead of pulling down El Amante, he pulled down his trunks instead. And not just halfway either. 'Lucky thong' and all came unfurling down faster than the lucahdor could catch. And that wasn't the only thing the audience section directly in front of El Amante saw unfurl...
The audience gasped, shocked at this display of nudity (which would be far too arousing to describe here). Then...something else happened. An entirely different type of crowd pop. For to behold El Amante in the peak of his activated power was a one way ticket to...
"OhhhHhhHHhhhhHHHH!!!!"
It was a pop alright. And El Amante's audience popped huge.
"Yeah, we're gonna need some towels in section C through J," a frazzled PA said into their headset as they darted past the ring. "Uhh...and a mop. Oh my goodness..."
Blushing, and genuinely embarrassed to see his love magick work too well on the crowd, El Amante tried turning around to hide his...power. "Oops," he said to the ref, shielding his eyes from El Amante's...glory.
Instead, El Amante accidentally revealed himself to the other side of the room, while those in the first section who had somehow avoided—'reacting' to El Amante's charms were now pushed past the limit from the sight of his beautiful, sculpted, wide, perfectly proportioned, unreal muscle ass.
The other section erupted (in multiple meanings of the word). This time, El Amante had the foresight to hitch up his thong and trunks. "Er...sorry, folks! Didn't mean to do that." Guess they got more than they paid for...
In any case, it was time to seal the deal and end this match. Before Peluquero could squirm away, El Amante dropped down and mounted him catching him by the throat.
"You..." Peluquero choked. "No, I will resist!" He expected his opponent to start choking him, or even break his trachea. Which was why he was surprised when the expected fear was instead overridden by a sudden wave of complete and total calm. He looked up into El Amante's soft, dark eyes.
And he could not hope to tear himself away.
Everything became soft pink and hazy. Peluquero's nose took in the smell of the sweaty El Amante Intóxico's cologne mixed in with his own masculine musk, his 'intoxicating' pheromones. Unable to help himself, Peluquero grew harder.
"Yes...chico. My love venom courses through you..."
That...luscious hair, he thought looking how perfectly El Amante's gorgeous, long locks tumbled over his heaving pectorals.
I wanna....put it in my mouth.
El Amante spoke softly to his opponent, even as he began to slowly position his arms around his throat and side of his head. "You are drunk on me now. I see into your soul, mi amor. A sad, scared little boy who grew up being the bad guy because he thought it would make him strong. To humiliate others and rob them of their beauty just so he could make himself feel more attractive." He winked. "Which is silly, because you aren't an ugly looking guy at all." He stroked Peluquero's chin with his hand.
A wave of pleasure welled up inside Peluquero. But more than that, he felt like he'd genuinely been complimented. Overcome with emotion, Peluquero's eyes teared up. "You...you mean it?"
"I am not a rudo, mi amor! I tell no lies." El Amante laughed softly, kissing the man's forehead. He bit his lip and then played with the rudo's hair. "Still I think you'd look good with...a little off the top?"
Peluquero felt himself as the precipice of ecstasy. "Oh, El Amante!" he moaned.
"Kiss me, guapo." El Amante said, positioning his lips closer to Peluquero's face, his hands tighter around his throat and neck. "Surrender to El Amante!"
"No....I can't!" Peluquero tried to resist, reminding himself of his own reputation! To go from the villainous barber to one of El Amante's....boy toys. It would be a humiliating defeat, of the highest degree!
Plus, his hair...his beautiful, precious hair that all the babes loved to play with! He couldn't lose that!
"Mi amor..."
But then Peluquero, like Orpheus and so many other mythic fools before him, looked where he shouldn't—right back into El Amante Intóxico's bewitching eyes. Suddenly, defeat looked so much sweeter.
And those big, full, kissable lips...
Peluquero surrendered his mouth to El Amante's finding it completely covered by his opponent's. The luchador kissed soft, but firm. And deep. Peluquero felt his mask against his face, and the luchador's tongue exploring every inch of his mouth. El Amante, the warrior of love, would not let him go...nor breathe.
Peluquero didn't even object—not at first anyway—when he found a tightness around his throat and head, and his head begin to swim with dizziness as the bloodflow to his brain was slowly cut off.
It wasn't just a kiss. It was a kiss-of-death sleeper!
But El Amante would certainly take exception to that name. Because it was not to oblivion he consigned his foe, but to the realm of erotic reverie!
"Shhhh...." El Amante said, clamping down harder as he felt Peluquero's slightest resistance and struggled. "Let me take you to the land of sweet dreams. And then, I shall take your hair."
N-no, was all Peluquero could think, before he found his vision start to blur and his brain flooded with endorphins. He passed out.
But El Amante always liked to keep on kissing...just to be sure. The ref leaned down for the three count. The bell rung. But El Amante kept the hold on.
The ref cocked an eyebrow and scratched his bald head. "Hey...er....you done yet, big guy?"
With one final squeeze for good measure, El Amante pulled himself off. "Wow! What a kisser!"
"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" Peluquero snored.
El Amante looked down at this unconscious, drooling opponent--who had a smile on his face. "Huh! He snores as loud as mi amor, Iggy Astro!"
"PUTO!" Iggy shouted from his seat in the audience. "I'll remember that!"
Finally, El Amante stood up to the sound of his theme music, doing a dance over his downed opponent, who twitched with pleasure in his deep slumber. It was another cheeky humiliation from the luchador of love, strutting and dancing over the KO'd evil-doer! El Amante happily bent over and pulled his trunks down, just a little, wiggling his butt inches away from the drooling loser's face. Too bad he wasn't awake to behold such beauty! To top it off, El Amante took a still-intact bud of the rose blossom he'd tried offering Peluquero earlier and gently stuck it between the villain's lips.
"Since you like the taste of my bud so much," El Amante said with a flirty wink.
Finally, El Amante motioned for the ref to hand him the tools of Peluquero's trade that he had so wickedly tried to use on love's champion. El Amante removed a sharp, but simple, pair of scissors. "Hmmm...seems easy enough. I don't have much cosmetology experience, but..."
Icarus turned to Iggy. "He's...not really going to cut his hair, is he?"
The pink-haired rockstar giggled devilishly. "He's going to teach him a lesson!"
The ref shrugged and exited the ring. As far he was concerned, his job was done. El Amante however, gleefully mounted his opponent's back as if Peluquero were a show pony. He yanked his chin up into position and went above snipping off the long locks, watching them fall to his shoulders and the canvas. He picked up a piece and held it under his nose.
"Hmm. You must tell me the name of your conditioner! Hehe. But something tells me that speech has failed you, lover."
When he was last done with his lopsided haircut, leaving Peluquelo's gorgeous mane a tangle of snarls and different sided chunks of hair, the luchador motioned for a smitten ringside staff member to set up a small, standing mirror in front of the fighters. Satisfied with that, El Amante pulled his KO'd opponent up beneath the arms.
"Is he gonna clutch him?" Icarus asked his minder.
"No," Iggy smirked. "Better."
El Amante repositioned himself so Peluquelo was cradled in his arms, with the luchador's massive legs tightly hooked around his waist. Now, it was much easier to see the size comparison between the buff tecnico and the wiry rudo. El Amante began to kiss at his sleepy opponent's neck, and his hands wander slowly down his obliques and abs, gentle caresses.
"That's it, mi amor. The sweetest dreams..."
Whatever the ruthless fighter was dreaming about, it looked good. His eyelids fluttered, and drool ran down his neck while his body twitched. El Amante's hands fastened themselves on Peluquero's stubby cock, as he began stroking him slowly and smoothly.
"There we go, badboy. I wonder what you dream of? Is it El Amante taking you, mounting you, making you his?"
"Nnn....ugggg..." Peluquero cried out in his erotic slumber, a moan escaping from his lips.
"Right on time," El Amante said. As the speed of his strokes increased, bringing his opponent to the edge of ecstasy, the powerful lover clamped his free hand down on the side of Peluquero's neck, giving him a wake-up nerve pinch.
"OHHhhh. El Amante. Papi, yes!"
El Peluquero's eyes flitted open as he reached the point of climax, inadvertently locking eyes with his humiliated, ridiculous haircut as he shot a fat, white load all over the image of himself looking first in rapture. His tights overflowed, stained, as he involuntarily surrender his seed. He stared helplessly, in red-faced, embarrassed horror, as he orgasmed to his own ridiculous appearance.
His "OHHHHhhhhs" quickly became a "Nooooooo!" Peluquelo looked down to see he had shot pearls of milky fluid all over the pile of clippings of his own beautiful hair. Utterly defeated and brutally humiliated, Peluquero—the once-proud terror—burst out into pathetic sobs.
The audience laughed at his predicament, while El Amante sat up and strutted around. "Justice is served!" El Amante declared proudly, flexing for the enjoyment of all.
"I'll show you!" Peluquero spat through the sobs. But he couldn't even get to his feet! Between the beatdown and the beating off, he was completely useless. "I'll come for you and your boy-toy's hair next! How dare you take my beautiful hair!"
"Oh?" El Amante said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't like it, amigo? How rude! I went through all that trouble cutting your hair and this is how you repay me?"
El Amante shoved Peluquelo's head between his thighs, before the man could hope to wriggle himself free. He hoisted him up, Peluquelo's face now buried—and covered completely—by El Amante's massive bulge.
"MMMFFFF!!!!"
"You are hardly a man!" El Amante declared, walking the swinging, suffocating rudo around the ring, completely emasculating the villain. He gyrated his hips, stripper-like, rubbing his revered bulge all over his opponent's face. "This is a man."
El Amante carried Peluquero over to the messy, sticky pile of hair, holding him above it. "I gave you your chance, villain. Your reign of terror ends here! No longer will you take beauty from this world. It's LIGHTS OUT FOR YOU!"
El Amante jumped into the air, with Peluquero's ridiculous head tucked between his thighs, and DROVE his cranium right into the pile of his own hair and cum. Between the blow to his spine, and the blow to his ego, El Peluquero's days of robbing promising young upstart's of their hair were over.
Love's champion had dealt his justice!
Backstage by the exit door, the proud El Amante greeted his young apprentice and his lover. Icarus ran into his arms. El Amante was happy to embrace him, pull him closer into his muscles.
"You were great," Icarus said, rubbing his face into his master's giant tits.
"I had to defend the people I love," El Amante said. He pulled Icarus face back and gave him a quick—but potent—kiss on the lips. "And I love you both so much."
Icarus fell back into Iggy's arms. Iggy rolled his eyes and let him drop. "Oops!" But even he couldn't play it off cool. "Where's mine, handsome?"
Still feeling the rush of victory, El Amante picked Iggy up off the ground by their hips, swung them around, and began to passionately make out with them, breaking away only to utter sweet-nothings or moan in their eyes.
"You are the darkness of my night sky."
"And your the light of all my stars!"
"I am a sailor lost in the sea of your rippling muscles—and I could drown in your kisses!"
"Take me right here, in front of all these fans and the eyes of the Goddess Herself!"
"How sinful!"
"No! Nothing so pure as our love could EVER be so sinful. It is an act of divine creation!"
Recovering from his sudden fall, Icarus rubbed his head and stood by patiently while the lovers finished their...whatever it was that they were working on. "Um...so like, do you guys want to get some food or something? There's a Texas BBQ outside." Icarus pointed to the open doorway, in which wafted the smoky scent of cooked meat.
El Amante and Iggy struggled to break away from each other, like two ultra-powerful magnets. The spellbreakers looked at each other, then Icarus, and then smiled conspiratorially.
Iggy cleared his throat. "Oh, little doggy. I think my big, studly boyfriend and I were thinking of maybe...inviting you back to our hotel?"
Icarus blinked. "Oh? For...drinks?"
El Amante smirked and pointed to the table of food outside. Icarus looked over his shoulder...at the pig on the spitroast being basted over the open fire.
He turned the same color red. "O-o-oh? You mean...?
"Spitted," Iggy said, licking his lips.
"And basted," El Amante said, kissing the air.
Icarus turned a crimson shade of red. Before he could answer—though that answer was a resounding yes—he found his face wedged between one set of giant pectorals on his left, and the other set on his right. Iggy and El Amante grabbed Icarus close, each one assaulting a different side of his neck with nibbles and kisses.
"We wanted to cheer you up," El Amante growled softly into Icarus' ear. "You've been a good student."
"And such a good doggy," Iggy added with a small bite to Icarus' neck. "But now I think I'd like you to be a bad doggy...a really bad doggy."
Icarus gulped, but to offer resistance against these two was futile. He allowed himself to be swept away into the passionate world of El Amante and his lover. Hell, if I knew this is what I would get for losing my hair to El Peluquero, I would have asked him to do it to me a lot sooner!
The End!
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