Mattyboy's blog

Mason had known from a young age that he was something special. Before he was ten years old relatives had remarked on how he was going to break hearts one day. By the time he was a teen he was well aware of the unwarranted attention he gained in general.

Standing a lofty 6ft 1 & weighing 150lbs his genetic heritage had been kind all around to him. He was the epitome of the cliche ‘tall dark and handsome’. Now he was twenty and commanded the attention of a room he entered with his natural perfection. Indeed with the exception of being let down by his somewhat slender figure he knew he was what girls called “fit, smoking, gorgeous, I’d do him” etc. Guys would regard him with envy and gays would dream of doing a twink like that.

All this pretty boy perfection has its impact on man’s psyche and confidence. It can make one arrogant and cocky or it can have &the inverse effect of making one shy and withdrawn, retreating from the limelight. Mason was the later. He had 7come to realise that people generally wanted something from him and that this was usually a piece of him. Often it took the form of a cheeky bum pinch. Why did people think it was okay to do this?

Mason met Eldon on his first day in his new job and Eldon was everything he aspired to be. They had established an instant friendship. He was twenty seven, 6ft 2 but a much more muscular 200lbs and he carried that instant charm, aura and confidence of perfection. Eldon was gregarious and outgoing, he took Mason under his wing.

Mason loved being the focus of his attention. He basked in the glow of the dominant alpha male. Eldon picked up on his shyness and offered to help.

“You know I used to be like you” said Eldon. “A pretty boy who didn’t know how to take advantage of it. Then I started working out and wrestling to help build up my body and my confidence”

“I wish I was as well built as you” remarked Mason. “Would you take time outside of work to help me bulk up?”

“Sure, after work I’ll introduce you to the ropes…literally”

Chapter Two

The match had started off friendly with some light sparing and a demonstration of holds but Mason noticed that Eldon’s enthusiasm was taking on a dominant aggressive streak in the ring. He found himself being ‘placed’ into an example Camel Clutch.

Eldon’s taut bubble butt bounced onto the small of Mason’s bony back and his arms whipped around and then underneath Mason’s armpits, Eldon’s powerful grip slapping onto Mason’s bony shoulders and prominent collar bone.

Eldon gave a powerful pull and yanked Mason upwards straining his back into a painful arc.

“An effective hold, huh?” Said Eldon. “Hurts real bad”

Mason whimpered in pain and enthusiastically nodded his agreement.

“Oh I’m sorry Mason. My skinny buddy. How could I forget your head?”

Eldon released his grip on his scrawny prey’s upper torso and latched a powerful grip under the chin of Mason.

Mason yelped loudly as his long thin neck was yanked backwards adding to the overall strain on his long lean, string bean body.

“Ah, ah, ah…Okay, stop man. that really hurts”

“Stop! No way little buddy. I’ve got you right where I want you at last. I’m only just beginning”

“No Eldon, seriously. It really hurts. Let me go”

Eldon laughed with sadistic joy and Mason felt a shudder of fear run the length of his coiled spin.

“My skinny, but very good looking buddy. You aren’t going anywhere, anytime soon”

Mason reached up with his long bony fingers and began to claw at Eldon’s powerful grip with futility. Through gritted teeth Mason made another desperate plea to the decency and reason of his ‘friend’.

“Eldon I know you’re really enthusiastic and I’m grateful for the training session but this is getting too rough. Let me go…now.”

“Nah Mason. That’s not going to happen. I’ll make this easy for you and spell out everything that’s going to occur so you know what to expect. But beware because in your case forewarned won’t be forearmed.”

Alarm swept through Mason’s mind and he began to grapple and claw which much greater effort than the token resistance he had previously offered Eldon’s vice like grip on his chin. He tried pulling at the individual fingers to peel the hands off one layer at a time but this was greeted with a sudden bounce onto his back which sent a shockwave of pain up through his spin and neck.

Mason cried out a long howl of pain. This time he didn’t hold back to a simple loud yelp like before designed to save his personal dignity. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped for recovery air.

“Fucking heck man are you trying to break my back?”

“I really haven’t decided yet. I’m torn about how to end you. But I am going to finish you. At least as a potential threat to me”

“What do you mean threat? I’m 50lbs lighter than you and have no ring experience.”

“Silence you lanky stick” Eldon wrapped a hand around Mason’s pitch perfect mouth and muffled further protest. “I was going to explain myself and watch you squirm in terror”

“First I’m going to work your back and neck with a long slow camel clutch. Oh you’ll struggle and squirm whilst you still have the feeble strength. You’ll pull and claw with all the might that you can muster from those scrawny undeveloped arms but eventually your will to resist will crumble and you will surrender”

“Then I’ll bounce up and down on your already destroyed back and listen to you cry, literally cry in agony. You will beg me, quite literally to end it. Once I’ve reduced your bony spinal column to dust I’ll release you at long last”

“Then I’ll let your head snap back onto the mats with a nasty suddenness that will bloody your nose. Your beautiful face will be hidden behind a mask of smeared blood. Then with the threat neutralised I’ll finally abandon you to pass out”

Chapter Three

Mason wasn’t simply alarmed now, he was already terrified just by the verbal description of the coming pain. He didn’t need to go through all that to surrender. He tapped on Eldon’s hand and muffled a protest. Eldon uncovered his mouth so he could speak.

“Hey man, look I don’t need all that torture to surrender. Let me go now and we can forget all this. Your the better man, I submit. ‘Threat’ neutralised, okay?.”

Eldon laughed ecstatically. The reverberations of his laugh worked up and down Mason’s spine. Inadvertently? Adding to his arched back painful discomfort.

“Get off me you muscle jock. NOW! I’m just a lanky twig. How am I remotely a threat to you?’

“Mason man. This isn’t about being a threat now. It’s about future proofing myself. You’re not a threat now, but you will be a couple of years”

“Huh? Come on please man. Stop this now before you really hurt me”

“Mason. You are so like me in my late teens. It’s like an echo of myself delayed by seven or eight years. Tall, lean, perfect faced, browned off skin, long eyelashes, deep brown eyes”

“I have green eyes fuck whit”

“Do you?” Eldon wrenched Mason neck around to examine his facial details. Mason grimaced with the extra strain this placed on his long scrawny neck. “So you do, my pretty boy”

“Like I was saying. You are simply too perfect. Sure right now your a bit weedy and underdeveloped in the muscle stakes but if I start helping you build up then time will give you the eventual edge”

“You see you will be younger, potentially better looking and more confident. The focus of attention will naturally turn in your favour just as my prime time twenties are coming to a close”

“But after I’ve broken your back and crushed your confidence tonight it will set you back years. Allowing my star status to continue to shine brightly. Cruel I confess but brutally effective. You see Mason, I’m eliminating the competition before it gets a chance to blossom. This is a preemptive strike”

“Don’t do this man. You ain’t right in the head. I’ll get you help” pleaded Mason.

“Mason, don’t beg. At least not yet. It’s beneath a stud of your perfection. Save it for when the pain really gets to much too bear.” With that Eldon yanked Mason’s back hard and began the brutal process of destroying his bony back…

After nearly nine years on this site trying to arrange a 2vs1 (one big two slim) match I've given up & lost interest. Too many fantasists without the will power to force it into reality. The one hundred plus people I've wasted effort & many messages trying to work this out with. Worse these fantasists have no imagination, instead they rely on me to script the entire match for them.

Therefore I'm doing just that. I'm writing a new story. One that compliments Double Trouble but is new, original & very different in tone. One that demonstrates what a wonderful experience this could have been if people ventured beyoud virtual reality into the physical realm.

It will be longer & more drawn out than my first foray into Squash fiction (look how he coined a new phrase for this genre). Therefore it will come in instalments. Serialised like a 19th century novel into the newspapers before full publication.

The scenario: Two beefy heels working over a pair of skinny young jobbers in a double bearhug trap.

A powerful hand gripped my neck forcefully, yanking me like a rag doll heather and tether. The world spun, like a tiny boat caught in a typhoon. How long hand it been? Less than three minutes? It hardly made a difference, with these two monsters working us over every moment felt like an eternity, the pain slowing time down to a crawl.

Please boss, all I ask is for a merciful end, finish it. Thankfully I sensed these beefy heels were lining us up for the final act.

Us? I wondered vaguely where Lucas was. Conscious even? I'd lost track of him almost as soon as this beat down had begun. My world shrunk down and simplified to one goal, merely trying to stay lucid and in the game. As the thought of Lucas hung in my mind the sweaty palm that gripped my neck spun me round and I saw him on the other side of the ring, in the grip of that other burly beast.

Poor sweet Lucas. Slender, youthful and wire muscled, dazed and disorientated he obviously hadn't faired any better than me. Don't worry pal, their going to finish us off now.

The hand on my neck suddenly jerked forward and the tight grip released, propelling me forward like a shell out of an artillery gun. Unable to stop myself, my legs carried me headlong forward, towards the middle of the ring. Lucas similarly shoved raced to incept me from the other side.

“Owff”. Our twin yelps of pain intermingled as we collied with bone jarring force in the middle of the ring. Our slim bony bodies offering no insulation from the force of the impact. Damn that’s going to bruise tomorrow. We stood half standing, half slouched in each others arms in the middle of the ring. Leant up against each for support, abs muscles pressed against each other.

“Don't worry, it's nearly over” I whispered in his ear. “Arrrrhh” with a tone of relief was his pained response.

Over Lucas's shoulder I saw the monster that had shoved him closing on our position, stalking up behind him and I felt my own tormentor press against my back. Surrounded, outweighed and outmatched, they stood head and shoulders above us. I felt like I was back at the wrestling academy again, being out witted by my trainer. Lucas shouting some advice from off the mats.

But my training teacher had always know when to call it quits and Lucas, my tag partner since we graduated together wasn't outside the ring at all, but right here alongside me in this Hell. Looking up over his Lucas shoulder into the eyes of the heel pressed against his back, it dawned on me with a growing sense of dread that these guys weren't yet finished with us at all. He had a wicked grin on his face that said “pain”.

Pressing us firmly, bodily into each other, they locked their tree trunk arms together around their waists, trapping our midsection’s in between and hauled us off our feet, their bellies to the small of our backs, so each of us looked 'out' over the others shoulder and at eye level with a respective heel. Each jobber facing his own vista of hell.

Releasing what was coming and out of sheer desperation I yelled out “Mercy!” I heard another twin cry with my own, Lucas voice laced with fear now. But those dark eyes stared back contemptuously and his grin simply grew even wider.

Mind racing with fear, adrenaline pumping through my veins, time slowing even further I caste my gaze around for something, anything that would stop them. I turned to Lucas, he always came up with a way out when the match wasn’t going so well, he was always the quick thinker under stress. His lithe body moving like lightening and executing dazzling moves.

Lucas gaze fell on mine simultaneously. He didn't have any ideas, his eyes were wide discs of fear. All our youthful speed wasn't going to save us now. It must only have been a split second since my cry for mercy had gone unheeded, but we had nothing left to lose now. Begging, submitting, pleading were the only way out.

As the heels arms tensed, muscles bulging and the first tug of pressure secured itself around our twin waists I cried out “No, please, don't. You'll crush us, we'll never be able to wrestle again!” his yellow toothed grin remained locked in place, the grip on our waists tightened slightly.

Lucas added in a strained voice “Please man, we've got our whole careers ahead of us”.

Their grips tightening again, I felt Lucas heart thudding against my chest and with a sick feeling in my gut, my lunch perhaps? I accepted that all we had done was waste what was about to become a valuable lungful of air begging for mercy.

We squirmed and fought, our legs kicked uselessly in the air, each agonizing second that past their grips tightened like a Python's. Pressing our diaphragms up into the lungs, squeezing more valuable air out from out mouths. I felt Lucas bony pelvis stabbing deeply into my stomach, our ribs locked together like a jigsaw, inter-coastal muscle to rib.

It made each breath we took painful, I tried to breathe in unison with Lucas but I couldn't, I was so desperate for air that I threw my head back and gasped, trying to force down a lungful. In the process inadvertently forcing my ribs even deeper into Lucas, adding to his pain. He groaned and in a strangled whisper cried “Matt, stop”.

I looked into Lucas face, normally a pale shade of white, now beetroot red from lack of air and pain. I threw my arms against his shoulders and looking him in the eyes, communicated to him to do the same. Air was too valuable to waste on a verbal communiqué and unnecessary, tag partners know at an instinctual level what their partner intends. “For all your worth – push-”.

Wire muscled arms tensed, veins protruding through the skin we pushed on each others shoulders for all we were worth. On so slightly, fractal, maybe a cm our bodies parted. But the relief was phenomenal, we both drew in a complete lungful of air, the first since this bone crushing bearhug had begin an eternity/thirty seconds before. I saw relief cross Lucas face and felt the same.

And then the heels hairy arms tightened again, not once notch, like each time before, but three. My strength buckled and so did Lucas, our arms gave way and we smashed back into other.

Bones clattered once again into each other, I felt a pelvis jar my stomach and wretch my guts. It was Lucas pelvis, we both screamed in pain and exhaled our valuable lungful of air, paid for at such a high price. I felt Lucas heart pounding once again from behind his chest cavity, saw his face contort with pain, reflecting a mirror image of my own.

My arms hung limp at my side, , useless, strength drained, our heads lolled over each others shoulders.

Lucas neck throbbed, our bodies jerked crazily from spasms of pain, grinding bones into each other and making the misery even worse. My vision began to tunnel, darken, stars flared before my eyes. My senses were failing, they say at the end, hearing is the last to go. I could hear a disant and distinctive crackle like a tree branch breaking. Bones fracturing, I couldn't tell whether mine or Lucas, but the distinction no longer had meaning, we were like Siamese twins now. Literally crushed together.

As my universe caved in around me, one final ironic thought crossed mind. I never did have the heart to admit to Lucas something. I had a huge crush on him!