07-29-2022, 08:16 AM
The sounds of birds chirping fill your ears as you clutch your eyes tighter, desperate to retain your slumber. You fail.
"Fucking bird" you mutter under your breath. As air escapes your lungs, so too does the scent and taste of your breath. Putrid. You begin to think about last night and what you had done. As you attempt to piece together fragments… the whiskey, the wine, the music…
Another scent wafts towards your noses, and your sinuses are instantly attacked by the undeniable mixture of sweat and sex. You lift the blanket to look underneath… gone are your signature pink heart boxer shorts as you get a good look at yourself in all your glory. Impressed with yourself, you smirk… "Not bad."
You attempt to roll off your back to sit when the footsteps of another are heard. Not thinking you're about to be burgled, you rest back. In enters a slender blonde, clad only in your unbuttoned fluorescent green shirt and her own (you assume) lace panties. This woman is an absolute feast for the eyes and, apparently, your other senses too as you lack the energy to do anything but gawk. It's then as she approaches that your green pants - the ones matching the shirt lightly clinging her curves - and underwear fly in your direction.
"Put those on," she commands, and God how sexy it is for you to hear a woman commanding you in such a manner. You struggle a bit, but manage to do as she says as she ruffles through your mail.
"What're you doing, baby?" you ask, half out of genuine curiosity, half in the hopes that your tone would be an aphrodisiac that'll trigger her senses. It doesn't. She finishes rifling, tossing you an envelope from your former employer, Supreme Championship Wrestling. Looking at the envelope, you tilt your head. "This?"
"That," she pointedly remarks, striding to the end of the bed. She places her hands on it before climbing up to her knees, moving over you. "That is your ticket back to the big time."
"I've given up that life," you protest, though you don't really believe it yourself. SCW was lucrative for you. You got to travel, see the world, and experience things you never thought possible for a man of your stature. But then you gambled. You decided to embrace a change and everything spiralled from there. You messed with your formula and it blew up in your face, and not in the way that you would have preferred. The woman is undeterred, however, as she crawls up your body sensually.
"Just think about it," she continues as her fingertips trace along your unclad torso. She can be very persuasive. "You step out for the first time as the fans loved you best… confident, bold…" She lightly kisses your stomach… "The people chant your name over and over…" Her lips press onto your chest.
"What are you doing?" you ask mostly for confirmation of what you already believe to be happening. She lifts her head, her hair caressing your chest, and smiles a wry smile.
"Motivating you," she says. Fair response… her touch was quite motivating. Still, your mind races around to one thought…
"Why did tell me to put on pants then?” your genuine confusion prompts you to ask. After all, things were getting heated - and you have to get dressed? Didn’t seem to make sense. But her hands, soft in yours, pull you up from the bed as she moves backwards, guiding you towards the washroom mirror.
“What do you see?” she asks. You try to fight the blur in your eyes, but don’t get the chance before she continues. “I see a man who isn’t afraid of reinvention… who isn’t afraid to change the game when the game needs to be changed. I see a man who is bold, powerful, provocative, and most of all, dynamic.” She runs her hands along your chest from behind your back. “I see a man who has a desire and hunger for the finest things in life… and who knows that the Gimmick Battle Royal, while not the most conventional of methods, is a way to begin to rebuild and reboot himself. And most of all, I see a man who can lead an empire… who can inspire warriors and raze lands.”
“They’re going to laugh at me,” you say, lowering your head. You never were the greatest physical specimen, but since your exodus, you had been a little more lax on the workouts - at least the ones for ring-work.
“And you’ll laugh last and loudest,” the woman, your apparent lover, assures you. Leaning towards you, she kisses your neck. “Now what do you say? Will you take up the invitation? Don the garbs of battle? Ride into Rise to Greatness and compete once more? Or will I leave here today and find someone who will…”
You have a lot of thinking to do and not a lot of time to do it. In your heart, you’re unsure of whether or not this is something you want to do… the battle royal, that is. It seems kind of… you don’t know the word, but it’s “gimmicky”. But on the other hand, the woman coaching you, coaxing you, and trying to inspire you is everything you wanted in a lover. Gorgeous, sultry, and most of all, willing. Nodding your head, you utter… “I will.”
She spins you around, planting a deep kiss on your lips. You scramble for her shirt, pushing it back, but she steps back, sliding it off herself and tossing it over your head. You hear her smirk, then reply “You’re going to have to say something a little more emphatic than that.”
You say the only word that comes to your mind… a word that you had once sworn off ever saying again. But the because the Lawrd works in mysterious ways, you say… “KABLAM!”
…because you are Derek Adonis, and you’re entering the Gimmick Battle Royal.
"Fucking bird" you mutter under your breath. As air escapes your lungs, so too does the scent and taste of your breath. Putrid. You begin to think about last night and what you had done. As you attempt to piece together fragments… the whiskey, the wine, the music…
Another scent wafts towards your noses, and your sinuses are instantly attacked by the undeniable mixture of sweat and sex. You lift the blanket to look underneath… gone are your signature pink heart boxer shorts as you get a good look at yourself in all your glory. Impressed with yourself, you smirk… "Not bad."
You attempt to roll off your back to sit when the footsteps of another are heard. Not thinking you're about to be burgled, you rest back. In enters a slender blonde, clad only in your unbuttoned fluorescent green shirt and her own (you assume) lace panties. This woman is an absolute feast for the eyes and, apparently, your other senses too as you lack the energy to do anything but gawk. It's then as she approaches that your green pants - the ones matching the shirt lightly clinging her curves - and underwear fly in your direction.
"Put those on," she commands, and God how sexy it is for you to hear a woman commanding you in such a manner. You struggle a bit, but manage to do as she says as she ruffles through your mail.
"What're you doing, baby?" you ask, half out of genuine curiosity, half in the hopes that your tone would be an aphrodisiac that'll trigger her senses. It doesn't. She finishes rifling, tossing you an envelope from your former employer, Supreme Championship Wrestling. Looking at the envelope, you tilt your head. "This?"
"That," she pointedly remarks, striding to the end of the bed. She places her hands on it before climbing up to her knees, moving over you. "That is your ticket back to the big time."
"I've given up that life," you protest, though you don't really believe it yourself. SCW was lucrative for you. You got to travel, see the world, and experience things you never thought possible for a man of your stature. But then you gambled. You decided to embrace a change and everything spiralled from there. You messed with your formula and it blew up in your face, and not in the way that you would have preferred. The woman is undeterred, however, as she crawls up your body sensually.
"Just think about it," she continues as her fingertips trace along your unclad torso. She can be very persuasive. "You step out for the first time as the fans loved you best… confident, bold…" She lightly kisses your stomach… "The people chant your name over and over…" Her lips press onto your chest.
"What are you doing?" you ask mostly for confirmation of what you already believe to be happening. She lifts her head, her hair caressing your chest, and smiles a wry smile.
"Motivating you," she says. Fair response… her touch was quite motivating. Still, your mind races around to one thought…
"Why did tell me to put on pants then?” your genuine confusion prompts you to ask. After all, things were getting heated - and you have to get dressed? Didn’t seem to make sense. But her hands, soft in yours, pull you up from the bed as she moves backwards, guiding you towards the washroom mirror.
“What do you see?” she asks. You try to fight the blur in your eyes, but don’t get the chance before she continues. “I see a man who isn’t afraid of reinvention… who isn’t afraid to change the game when the game needs to be changed. I see a man who is bold, powerful, provocative, and most of all, dynamic.” She runs her hands along your chest from behind your back. “I see a man who has a desire and hunger for the finest things in life… and who knows that the Gimmick Battle Royal, while not the most conventional of methods, is a way to begin to rebuild and reboot himself. And most of all, I see a man who can lead an empire… who can inspire warriors and raze lands.”
“They’re going to laugh at me,” you say, lowering your head. You never were the greatest physical specimen, but since your exodus, you had been a little more lax on the workouts - at least the ones for ring-work.
“And you’ll laugh last and loudest,” the woman, your apparent lover, assures you. Leaning towards you, she kisses your neck. “Now what do you say? Will you take up the invitation? Don the garbs of battle? Ride into Rise to Greatness and compete once more? Or will I leave here today and find someone who will…”
You have a lot of thinking to do and not a lot of time to do it. In your heart, you’re unsure of whether or not this is something you want to do… the battle royal, that is. It seems kind of… you don’t know the word, but it’s “gimmicky”. But on the other hand, the woman coaching you, coaxing you, and trying to inspire you is everything you wanted in a lover. Gorgeous, sultry, and most of all, willing. Nodding your head, you utter… “I will.”
She spins you around, planting a deep kiss on your lips. You scramble for her shirt, pushing it back, but she steps back, sliding it off herself and tossing it over your head. You hear her smirk, then reply “You’re going to have to say something a little more emphatic than that.”
You say the only word that comes to your mind… a word that you had once sworn off ever saying again. But the because the Lawrd works in mysterious ways, you say… “KABLAM!”
…because you are Derek Adonis, and you’re entering the Gimmick Battle Royal.
![[Image: vJXLyBV.png]](https://i.imgur.com/vJXLyBV.png)