RowdyMike's blog

It started out as a dare, more than anything. But I quickly got myself into a dilemma. See he is a 260 lb bodybuilder who studies jujitsu. I am a hundred pounds lighter and have a big mouth. He was bragging that he bearhugged a guy into submission in 2 minutes. I bet him I'd last longer. And we kept escalating. The result is I'm sat here at his kitchen table with two dies and my iPad. The phone is programmed with an app I wrote for this very occasion. The rules are simple, but I will never be the same at the end. Yet my cock is hard as a rock.

I am about to roll the dice twice. We will add the numbers on the dice together for both rolls and multiply by 10. That represents the number of seconds I have to endure his bearhug. If I roll doubles, we add a minute. If I roll doubles twice, we add 3. That makes the minimum I will endure will be sixty seconds, or one minute. If I roll four sixes, it maxes out at 7 minutes.

My first roll is double 3s. Two minutes already before I roll a second time.

Once he starts hugging me, if I tap, I can beg him to release me. If he releases me with any time left on the clock, we start round 2. That’s where the iPad app comes in. We set it for the remaining number of seconds on the clock. It has 4 buttons. “Heel” for every time he gets me to tap, “Jobber” for every time I get him to tap, and “Break” if I ask for a break. Every time the Heel button gets hit, the time on the clock will double. Every time the Jobber button gets hit, the time halves. Pressing “Break” causes the clock to switch from counting down to counting up, thereby causing every second of break to add a second onto the total time. There is also a pause button and a toggle switch to turn on or off “endurance mode.”

I roll my second time. Four and five. 90 more seconds. I set the clock for 3 minutes 30 seconds.

“OK little boy,” he says to me, reaching out in a stretch and cracking his knuckles, “time to squeeze.” He stands up, reminding me of just how huge in stature he is, and leads me into his mat room. Standing up, he’s over 6 feet tall and wearing nothing besides fight shorts.

I set the iPad on its stand on a table just outside the mat, and hit the “start” button. Then, I walked over to the center of the mat to go toe-to-toe to him, my hard dick visible in my fight shorts. He stands over half a foot taller than me and he has a mean sneer looking down on me. The iPad beeps the 3 count to start the round and the bell goes off. He wraps his 19 inch guns around my torso, lifts me up off my feet, and begins to squeeze.

“Uuuuuhhhhh!” I groan as the air rushes out of me, my torso compressed by his power. My face is smashed against his giant pecs. He bounces me a few times.

“How’s that little boy? I’m probably only using 30 percent of my power.” He gives my body an extra squeeze for effect, and I groan again. “Wonder what will happen if I turn up the dial a bit?” Rather than the quick, sharp squeeze just moments ago, the sensation is now more like a boa constrictor attacking its prey. My breathing becomes more labored as I struggle to overcome his power to expand my chest to open up space in my lungs. “Getting closer to 50 percent, but that’s only half!” he teases me as he starts to walk me around the room.

“Let’s look at the clock,” he says tauntingly. “Oh wait, you can’t see it, my big pecs are in the way.” Suddenly, he drops my feet back to the mats. I breathe in, thankful for the moment of relief. He spins me around, grabbing me quickly in a reverse bearhug, and picking me up off the mat again. As he applies the pressure, I’m secretly hoping he won’t give me one of those short squeezes in this position because I’m sure it would have the same effect as a Heimlich maneuver. “What’s it say, little boy?”

“3:10,” I groan.

“20 seconds. That’s all you’ve got?” He shakes my body around a bit. “This is going to be a cakewalk.” I can feel his hard dick rubbing against my ass through his trunks.

Suddenly, he drops me. It catches me off guard and I collapse to the mat.

“Pussy!” he says, grabbing me by the hand and wrenching me back to a standing position. He puts me back into the front bearhug and turns up the pressure. “I can’t wait to own you.” I’m not sure if he’s referring to round 2, where he will get to use all of his submission power to control me, not just a bearhug. Or if he’s referring to running the clock up to 3,600 seconds, 60 minutes, one hour. At that point, I lose, and I’m his to do whatever he wants to for the rest of the night.

He starts to walk around the mats again. As he speaks, he punctuates every other word with a tight, sharp squeeze. “The question is, do I submit you quickly?” he asks, rhetorically, as he sharply squeezes me harder than ever. “Or do I go with a long, drawn out, endurance match, bringing you close to zero, giving you hope of winning, and build up the time again?” During that sentence, he lowers the pressure, giving me room to breathe almost comfortably as I almost rest my head against his big pecs.

“2 minutes 50 seconds now, pup.” he says, looking over my head at the clock. “I think I’m bored,” he says, looking down at me with a maniacal grin. He walks us back over towards the table where the iPad is. “Don’t want you to get cocky, so it’s time to squeeze,” he says. I feel his body tense under me as he throws all his 260 pounds of power behind squeezing me. I make a sound something like a deflating balloon as the air rushes out of me again. I can feel the power build as my internal organs rearrange to deal with my now compressed torso. Amazingly enough, I can tell he’s moderating his power so to ensure he doesn’t crack a rib in the process, but I still feel like my rib cage is going to crumble under the pressure. I can’t breathe in at all, so saying “I give” won’t happen because there’s not enough air in my lungs to form audible words.

So I tap.

“Was that a tap? Do you give?” he teases me.

I tap again.

“Are you sure? There is still 2 and a half minutes on the clock!”

I try to shake my head yes, form the word “yes” and tap again all at the same time.

“Your loss,” he says, dropping me to the mats, where I collapse. He reaches over to the iPad and hits the pause button. The clock is stopped at 2:32. I lasted a total of 58 seconds in his bearhug and he didn’t even keep me in it the whole time.

“Take a quick breather,” he says, handing me a water bottle. “Then I’m going to enjoy getting really rough with you.”

We agreed that round 2 would focus on submission wrestling like luta livre or sambo. Chokes are allowed, but not punches, kicks, and stomps.The wrestler who gets the submission gets up after releasing his opponent and hits his appropriate button. If either of us get choked out, after pressing the heel or jobber button, the conscious one hits “pause” until the other wrestler regains consciousness and coherence.

I toggle Endurance Mode on in the iPad app. In addition to the submission rules, if I manage to endure a full 60 seconds, the clock will drop by a further 30. So if he doesn’t submit me at least once a minute, I get a 50% bonus. Of course, he has a full 3 minutes left on the clock. If he submits me quickly when we get on the mat, that 3 minutes will become 6 which will become 12 and 24 pretty quickly. Five submissions in quick succession would push me over the hour mark.

I put my water down, say “Let’s go,” hit the start button, and walk to the center of the mat. We stand opposite each other again, his size dwarfing me as we both crouch, ready for the 3 beeps which will restart the match. BEEP BEEP BEEP, and he grabs me in a clinch before I have a chance to react. Using his superior strength and leverage, he throws me to the mat. I roll to my back, and he mounts me, then quickly is in side control. The next thing I know, I’m in pain and tapping the mat furiously.

He jumps up, runs to the iPad, hits “HEEL” and the clock goes from 2:20 to 4:40. In 12 seconds, he submitted me doubling the time, pushing the time over 4 and a half minutes. I have no choice but to jump up and make my way back to the center of the mats, because the application will wait 5 seconds before giving us a 3-count, and the match starts again. If I don’t move quickly, he’ll be able to get on top of me before I have a chance to reset.

We start again. This time, it takes a bit longer, but I very quickly find myself in a guillotine choke, his giant arms cutting off the circulation to my brain. I tap before the choke has a chance to make me woozy. The clock goes from 3:57 to 7:54.

He is relentless. There’s no trash talk. No cat-and-mouse. He gets to the center of the mat, the chime restarts us, and I’m on the ground again, being thrown around like a rag doll. This time it’s an arm bar and the clock advances from 7:28 to 14:56. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s going to just run the clock straight to an hour. That’s 3 submissions in about a minute.

This time, we restart, and rather than going for a submission, he flattens me against the mat, groin-to-groin. Because of the size difference, my face is crushed by his big chest. “Ok, little one, let’s see how long you can stand to have 260 pounds of muscle crushing you. I’m going to give you a little gift here. I’m not going to get up for 2 full minutes. If you last that long, you’ll earn back 3 minutes off the clock.”

With that, I can feel his legs and arms stop supporting his weight and the pressure bears down on me. I groan as the weight of his torso pushes into my face, causing me to turn my head sideways against the mat. I try to arch my back to push him up to escape, but he’s a talented wrestler, so he just adjusts his hips and center of gravity, and pushes me back down again.

“I’m going to change the rules a bit,” he says. “Any time you escape my grasp and can get to the iPad, you can hit the Jobber button. That way, an escape has the same effect as you getting me to tap.”

That encourages me a bit, so I begin to strain against him, trying to get out from under him. But his extra 100 lbs of muscle makes that pretty futile. As the seconds tick away, I suddenly realize that two things are happening. One, I’m working harder to escape rather than just endure the crush, and that’s wearing me out. The second is, my aggression is starting to boil, allowing me to get frustrated, and that’s causing me to move in ways that waste energy. I stop trying to escape and just endure the pressure.

“If you’re going to starfish on me, I’m going to submit you instead,” he threatens. I feign fighting back a bit more, but really I’m trying to conserve energy for the next sub. He uses a dolphin-kick like motion to roll his body across mine, putting more of his weight on a smaller area. The sweat of our two bodies making the space between us a bit slippery. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Rather than try to escape, I tap.

He very calmly walks over to the iPad and holds his finger over the heel button. “Get up,” he demands, so I push myself off the mat slowly, wasting a bit more time. When I’m standing, he touches the Heel button and I watch the clock tick over from 13:10 to 26:20. I managed to draw down the time by a full minute, earning myself the 30 second bonus for endurance, and while that helped, I’m still only 2 taps away from losing. At this rate, that could be inside the next 60 seconds. I have to get the clock back under 15 minutes to earn back a submission.

I mentally prepared myself for the next attack. I needed to either earn an escape, a tap, or last about 8 and a half minutes to earn back a tap. This time, he didn’t go on offense. We circled each other on the mat, me feigning going for his legs.

“Come on, boy, let’s see what you got,” he taunted.

We spent the next few minutes with me trying to do anything to get the upper hand. He would just brush me off like a flea, yell at me to reset, and I’d attack again. Over and over, if I stalled, he yelled at me to get up and attack again.

Finally, after a couple minutes of him defending everything I threw at him, I decided that I would just make a break for the iPad and hit the jobber button. You’d never think that a man his size could move that fast. As I dashed for the table, he caught up to me, pulled me back down onto the mat, and locked me into a rear naked choke/figure-four combo. The whole moment was lightning quick, and I first tried to pull his 18 inch guns off my neck, but ultimately, I could feel the world closing in around me, so I tapped. He let me go, jumped up, hit the heel button and I watched the clock jump from 19:50 to 38:40.

The non-stop rolling finally caught up to me, and, I was sure the next tap would be my downfall, so I hit the “break” button and the clock started ticking upwards. I grabbed my bottle of water and gulped from it in between heaving breaths. I watched the clock, intending to only give myself 30 seconds before ending the break and getting the clock going in the right direction again.

“You’re pretty tough,” he said to me. “I’m going to enjoy it when I can break your body. One more tap and you’re mine for the rest of the night.”

“Don’t count your chickens,” I retorted, hitting the break button and setting the clock back in countdown mode. “You haven’t won yet.” I walked back to the center of the mat as the machine signaled the restart.

We circled each other again. This time, he was the aggressor again, getting me into his guard. I had to make sure to keep his legs down so that he wouldn’t trap me in a triangle, and my arms against my chest, so he can’t get an arm. Since we weren’t punching, I didn’t have to worry about him striking at me from below. I kept working on passing his guard. It was exhausting work, and I was sweating buckets as I tried to get past his giant quads. Finally, I got the mount. I feigned a couple times, and rather than try to make anything of it, I jumped off of him and broke for the table. He was expecting me to try and get side control, and I was quick enough to make it to the table before he caught up with me. I triumphantly hit the Jobber button.

My escape dropped the clock down from 37:50 to 18:55, putting me two taps away from doom and a very long way away from winning.

“OK, you earned that,” he said as we both moved to the center of the mat. “But that’s the only one I’m going to let you have.” The signal came and we restarted again. He pawed at my head with his giant hands, trying to grab onto me to push me back down on the mat. I was sucking wind trying to keep up with him after as long as this match was running, but I did my best to keep him from getting a grip.

Again, he grabbed me, pulling me down into the mat in his guard. Then he rolled us both over, getting into the mount. He inched his big thighs forward, pushing his groin closer to my face. I could see the outline of his big prick in his trunks. Planting his weight on my chest and pinning my arms with his knees, he grabbed the back of my head and rubbed my face in his crotch.

“Yeah, boy, I’m going to enjoy owning your body.” He dropped my head back to the mat and raised his arms in a double-bicep pose. “These 18 inch guns are going to enjoy choking you out,” he said, kissing each one in turn. He reached down and flexed it in front of my face. “Kiss it, bitch,” he ordered. I obediently kissed his arm, which caused him to rub the back of my head with his big paw. “Good boy.”

He rolled us again, this time ending up with him on his side and my torso between his quads. Up until now, he’d been mostly using BJJ moves on me, but he quickly moved to lock his legs, levering my already abused mid-section between his two giant quads. “You did a good job enduring my bearhug earlier,” he said, referring back to how this whole thing started about 30 minutes prior. “Let’s see if you can stand up against these 28 inch monsters.” He punctuated his last sentence with a squeeze, eliciting a groan from me.

He teased me for a few moments in his legs, giving me a chance to feel the hardness of his muscles against my abused body. “You know, after you talked back to me in the gym locker room, I looked you up on a couple of the wrestling websites,” he said. “I noticed there were a couple guys we’d wrestled in common, so I asked them about you. One of them used the words ‘cat-and-mouse’ to describe what you like. Well, you’re in the mousetrap now, how’s it feel?”

With that, he poured on the pressure. I tried to resist, but I knew if I didn’t tap, ribs would start to break, so I reluctantly hit the mat with my hand. He gave me a quick squeeze with his legs and then got up, going over and hitting the heel button. I watched the clock jump from 14:40 to 29:20. I’d managed to earn back one tap, meaning it would still take two to win.

As he looked at me with an evil grin, saying “I wanted to make sure I had enough time to play with my food,” I realized he had purposefully let the clock draw down below 15 minutes.

This time, when the clock chimed, he got down in the defensive referee's position. I climbed on his giant back, his size difference making it hard for me to maintain contact with the mat. “Ready?” he asked. “Go!” With that, I tried for about 10 seconds to break him down to the mat. Eventually he stood up with me on his back. I scrambled up him trying to lock on a rear naked choke, but no luck. He swung me around, almost throwing me to the mat. Moving like lightning, the next thing I knew, my arm was bending the wrong way, and I was forced to tap.

He leisurely ambled over to the table, hit the button, and I watched the clock tick from 28:30 to 57:00. Three minutes short of losing. If I did not get an escape or a tap before he submitted me, I was his.

“By my math, that means you have to either escape, submit me, or somehow magically avoid getting tapped for more than 20 minutes. I think you’re a gonner, little boy.”

“The fat lady hasn’t sung yet!” I retorted, but I could tell that both he and I knew it was like a chihuahua barking at a pit bull.

We reset for what we both expected to be the final time. I could feel my heart rate accelerate to that nervous point when the adrenaline rushes in, more than just from the exertion. We circled each other again. He moved in for the kill, dragging me back down to the mat.

I somewhat expected him to make this last one as quick as the previous. Instead, it felt like he was moving me around the mat like a claymation doll. I could feel he was trying to set something up, but meanwhile was using his superior strength and size to move me around.

Then, I realized he was setting up a triangle, but it was too late. My head was locked in his legs, and my arm perfectly positioned. My left carotid was about to be compressed by his big leg, my right by my own arm, betraying me. I was caught, but so far, no pressure was being applied. The rest of my body flailed in a vain attempt to escape.

“You know what this is, boy?”

“A triangle.”

“What happens if I give you a little squeeze?” He asked, tightening his body briefly, causing me to go a little woozy before he let up again.

“I go out,” I replied.

“You do indeed,” he said. “Right in my crotch, where a pussy boy belongs.” I could feel his hard cock pulse against my face. “Do you think you can escape before I knock you out, little boy?”

“No.”

“No, Sir,” he corrected me.

“No, Sir!”

“Then why don’t you tap now?”

“I don’t like to give up!” I cried, using what strength I had to try and escape his python-like grip.

“Ok, then,” and he tensed up again, putting the pressure on my carotids, causing me to go woozy again. I tapped.

“What was that? Did you just submit?” he said as he loosened the hold enough for my blood flow to return to normal. I flopped in exhaustion, held up by his big legs.

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked over at the clock. “There is 55 minutes left on the clock. What’s 55 times 2, boy?”

“110, Sir”

“And I may be a dumb fighter, but 110 is more than 60, isn’t it, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So if I get up and touch the heel button, that means I won our little game, doesn’t it, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And what happens if I win, boy?”

“You own my body, Sir.”

“So I guess I own you now, don’t I, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That means I get to kick you, punch you, crush you, and fuck you, and you’re not allowed to resist for the rest of the night, isn’t that right, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And I get to control your body, don’t I, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And that includes your consciousness, doesn’t it, boy?”

“Yes, Sir”

“Well, then, boy, it is time for you to take a nap, and dream of my cock.” His body tightened up again, harder than any of the previous times. I felt the pressure building in my head as the world closed in around me. I had a brief sense of doom as to what the next several hours would have in store for me as my whole world went black.