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Old 02-Oct-20, 18:38
Jared55455 Jared55455 is offline
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Default A Weak-End with Zoey

WEEK-end, WEAK-end, get it?
If you're disappointed with the pun you'll be disappointed in the story

DISCLAIMER: I am not an experienced writer by any means, I just wanted to try my hand at this. Many stories focus on talented wrestlers, and people who are aroused by Mixed Wrestling. I was curious to see what a situation would look like where the girl is wrestling just for fun, and the guy is not turned on by the wrestling itself (obviously, some m/w holds are sexual by nature). I can, from the bottom of my heart, guarantee that none of my characters are based, even slightly, on real people in my life. I have sectioned out the events of the story for readers who don't want to read all the exposition. When I first make this thread, only the exposition will be published. I personally think the exposition is important to the story, and hopefully you'll grow to like Ethan and Zoey in it. I have outlined almost the entire match and written out two falls out of the ten (fall 5 and fall 6). These two falls are a bit over 3,500 words. If possible, I will upload one or a few falls at a time, depending on their lengths. Without further ado, here I go.


Ethan: 5'7" 135 pound cross country athlete with a lean but fairly athletic build. 17 years old. Dark, medium-long hair for a boy. Junior in high school. Nervous but kind, charming, and struggling with recent life events.

Oliver: 6'2" 180 pound basketball star. 16 years old and Ethan's best friend. Your typical blond haired blue eyed stud. (Oliver will not be participating in this story's wrestling match, but I could see writing him into a future story if its something I continue)

Zoey: Oliver's sister. 5'9", 155 pound, 21 year-old college junior. Zoey has tried just about every sport but has a true affinity for soccer. She is going to college on a soccer scholarship, but is also playing volleyball for her school. Sturdy, thick, athletic build. She packs serious power under her charismatic, charming, confident attitude. She loves to party but when home she is pretty reserved.

This story is from Ethan's recollection of these events, but it could be interesting to see what Zoey thought about the whole situation sometime.

And without further ado, I suppose I'll start writing.


Oliver Robinson effortlessly blew past Zoey with a simple crossover. That wasn't much of a surprise; that girl might be a great soccer player, but she's even more lost on the basketball court than I am. Oliver charged towards me, the only thing between him and another easy basket. I put up my hands, planted my feet, and closed my eyes, bracing for impact, knowing I was about to feel my freight train of a best friend crash into me.

"Seriously, Ethan?" Zoey's voice called out, "you let him blow right past you like that?" I opened my eyes to see that Oliver had chosen the more charitable approach to scoring, and had euro-stepped around me for the open layup. At least my ass wasn't on the pavement.

"Maybe he wouldn't have scored if he couldn't break your ankles by just bouncing the ball on the pavement a whopping two times," I challenged, staring Zoey down. She met my gaze and glared ice into my eyes.

"You're a dead man, Johnson." We held our stare for a few more moments before bursting with laughter. Intimidation wasn't her strong suit, and it certainly wasn't mine.

Oliver returned to the top of the key with the ball. "Check up." He tossed the ball to Zoey to start the next play.

While we continued with our game, my mind began to wander. It was strange to be known as Ethan Johnson, rather than Ethan Johnson-Wolf. Sure, the latter was my legal name, but I refused to answer to it. My mom's name didn't mean anything to me after the winter, and it still doesn't. Ever since she hooked up with my cross-country coach, I have never been able to forgive her. Luckily, my dad could afford better lawyers, so it was inevitable I was gonna end up with him, and with his name. Plus, Ethan Johnson has more of a ring to it, don't you think? But yeah, that school year in general sucked. I mean obviously there was the divorce, but at least I knew it wasn't MY fault my mom decided to be a whore. Before, cross-country was my escape from my problems: just run until the sadness gets too tired to put up a fight. But after, every time I went into that locker room, I saw the man who was responsible, at least in part, for the shit I had to deal with. Or, I guess some of the shit I had to deal with -- my girlfriend of 8 months (I know that's not much time but hey, I was 17), decided the day of my parents' first hearing was the best time to dump me. So that was great. As a result of the cross-contamination of bullshit I was sitting in, I spent the majority of my junior year at Oliver's. It was easier to focus on college applications without constant bickering and crying between my parents, and better to watch TV on a couch where I didn't have my first kiss with a girl who didn't want me anymore. Maybe I sound like a bitch and should have taken the whole situation like a man, but frankly, I think I did pretty well. I was walking out of my first semester with all A's in some tough classes, and I went into spring break with a perfect report card as well. Thankfully, Oliver's parents reached out to my dad and asked if I could spend break with them that year while my parents worked out the logistics of the divorce. Figuring I'd spend most of my time there anyways, my dad agreed.

Break life at the Robinsons' was great. I had a spare room to myself, great (and peaceful, finally) family dinners every night, time to work on my hobbies (I was starting to really get into the guitar), and plenty of time with my best friend. Of course, Oliver's weekend tournaments sent him off on Friday nights, even on Saturday and Sundays too if his team did well -- and considering they had THE Oliver Robinson playing point guard, they always did very well. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson have never missed a game (even now, in college), so they would go with him. Since break was only two weeks long, and I had long since earned the Robinsons' trust, they had no problem letting me keep up house when they were gone. In fact, they insisted I take money as a reward for keeping it maintained. Since the Robinsons had no pets and a very maintainable garden, I can see in hindsight that they probably gave a little more than necessary. They probably felt bad about my situation and wanted to let me spend a couple bucks. Of course, I put it into Christmas gift and birthday money for my sister and brother instead.

My first lone weekend went by in a flash, and the Robinsons got home that Sunday with another tournament championship to Oliver's name. He strutted into the living room, wearing his fake-gold medal in typical Oliver fashion, and plopped onto the couch besides me, checking out the nature program I had on before quickly losing interest.

"Hey, man. Remember my sister?"

"Yeah, Zoey, right?"

"Yup. She's coming back from her soccer camp and is spending the next week of break here." Oliver hoisted himself up and staggered upstairs to his room. He was always exhausted after his big tournaments.

When Zoey arrived, I was immediately intimidated by her looks. She stood 2 inches taller than me, was 20 pounds heavier, and had the build of a true athlete. She had the Robinson classic: blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face was fairly round, not strikingly beautiful, but she was definitely cute. Match that with her athletic, swimsuit-ready body and I could go as far as to say she was hot. But, my interpretation of her looks meant nothing because A: she was Oliver's sister, and B: she was 21 -- 4 years older than my 17. I expected her to be a total priss, but the first thing she did when she entered (after hugging her parents and brother, of course), was walk right up to me, shake my hand, and exclaim that she was excited to finally be meeting "THE Ethan Johnson." By dinner that night, I could see she was a total goof: she made dumb jokes at the table, insisted on making a secret handshake with me (I wish I could tell you how it goes, but I pinky swore not to tell -- its a *secret* handshake, after all), and she insisted on watching some of the most dreadful action movies I have ever seen. Within the week, I considered her a true friend.

"Ethan, you there buddy?" Zoey's voice drew me back into the pickup game.

"Yeah, sorry, just kinda zoned out for a second."

"Well focus up big guy, 'cuz Oliver only needs one more basket to win."

I was hit with a burst of Deja Vu: somehow every time I played with Oliver, the time between when we started and when he almost finished kicking my ass was nonexistent. "Okay. And how many do we need to win, again?"

"I'll give you a hint. If we divided Oliver's score by ours, you'd be left with Oliver's score."

"Oh, so we have one point. Nice, we scored!" At least that was new.

I could literally see the gears in Zoey's head turning. "Uh... huh. Oh! if you subtracted our score from Oliver's score, you'd still have Oliver's score." She gave a thumbs up, proud of her mathematical accomplishment. I decided not to tease her about forgetting simple arithmetic, as she was majoring in Math in college and probably had some quantum-calculus-theory-bullshit that she'd claim proved her right all along.

"Oh. So we have zero. Nice." Yup, Deja Vu.

"Alright Zoey, check the ball. Kicking your ass all day has really worked up my appetite." Oliver's baritone voice called out to his sister.

She threw him the ball. "Shut up, man. You know if we were playing anything else I'd whoop your ass. BOTH of your asses." She was absolutely right. The girl was a killer athlete. On that second line, she turned to give me another sarcastic cold stare, her classic I'm-pretending-to-be-a-hardass look. Oliver took that opportunity to whiz right by her (shocker!) and began to dribble towards me. Instead of the layup, Oliver decided to pull up at free throw range for the easy game-winner.

"Boom! Another flawless victory for Oliver Robinson! You guys are a great warmup for today's tournament." Oliver flexed his arms, assuming a medalist pose. Zoey made some remark under her breath about her brother being an idiot before heading back inside for dinner. Me and Oliver were right behind her: today was lasagna, a delicious staple in the Robinsons' diet.


At the table, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson debriefed me on Oliver's upcoming tournament (normally this was Oliver's job, but today there was too little space between his windpipe and lasagna, so the task was up to his parents). "The tournament is district level, not league level, so its three hours away," Mrs. Robinson explained. "Normally we'd hire someone to keep house, but you did great work last weekend and we'd love for you to keep it up." Mrs. Robinson slid a $100 across the table to me, which was twice as much as they had given me for the last weekend.

"Hold on, Mrs. Robinson. I can't take this much money from you." Of course seeing $100 with my name on it was tempting, but my dad didn't raise me to take handouts when I didn't need them. "Thank you so much for the offer, but I really can't $100."

Zoey burped, taking a brief pause from her mission to rid the world of any trace of lasagna. "Wait, only $100? And the kid has to deal with me all weekend? Damn, Ethan, you're getting underpaid." She nudged me with her elbow and grinned. It was clear that she wanted me to take the cash. I reluctantly took the bill, making sure to thank Mrs. and Mr. Robinson for the generous amount. The rest of the dinner was perfectly normal. We all ate our fill, and Oliver cleaned up the remains. The man has a vacuum for a stomach, it's insane. Pretty soon, Oliver and his parents had to get to the tournament.

"Bye you two, be safe. Don't let any intruders in." Mr. Robinson said to me and Zoey as he grabbed his coat and left. He never quite mastered the subtle art of dad jokes.

"And if you do, make sure you don't let them challenge you to pickup basketball. Then you guys would be toast." Oliver snickered at what must have been a genius comment to him as he pulled on his shoes at the doorway.

Zoey put her arm around my shoulder, a move that would have made me flinch before, but now made me feel welcome. "Hey, me and Ethan make a great team, so any intruders better watch out." She grinned her classic grin at me before taking her arm off of my shoulder. Oliver snorted, shook his head, and left, closing the door behind him with a final wave. It was just me and Zoey.

You'd think I would've been uncomfortable or nervous, being in a house alone with a girl of Zoey's stature and confidence. I really wasn't. I considered Zoey a great friend to be around at that point, so there was no awkward tension at all. From the moment we met, Zoey never let me feel left out or down -- even when I started to get wrapped up in what happened with my parents, or my girlfriend. One night, the third night she was there, after watching one of her shitty action movies, (that one was about a mobster who had a cop for a brother), I opened up to her about what was going on, and she somehow became even kinder to me. She'd always pull up her chair next to mine for meals, she'd bring me coffee when I was hard at work on the guitar or college applications, and she'd always ask how I was doing and if I wanted to play a song for her. I would always just say I was fine and politely reject her request. I was far too nervous to let anyone hear me play that thing yet. Especially Zoey. Even though I'd pretend I was super mature and on top of things, she helped me out more than I could have thought possible. So yeah, a weekend of the two of us hanging out didn't sound like the worst thing in the world. After my zoned-out moment of reflection, I noticed Zoey was working on the dishes. I hustled over to give her a hand. In no time, the dishes were all squared and put away.

"So, whattya wanna do?" Zoey asked, today's short list of chores already completed.

"Uh, I could go for some more pickup if you're down," I said. I knew she hated basketball, but I was too nervous to try my hand against her in any other sport. Her comment about kicking my ass in any other game earlier on the court stuck in my head.

"Sure! Can't beat my brother so you think you can beat me, tough guy? You're on." Zoey thrust the dish towel into my hand to put away before bouncing out the door in typical Zoey fashion.

Out on the court, I let Zoey start with the ball. Unsurprisingly, she immediately dribbled it off of her foot and into the lawn. My ball. Zoey checked it up to me, and I began dribbling, looking for my opening. Unfortunately, I lacked Oliver's speed and technique, so Zoey was able to match my pace when I drove right-side to the basket. I posted up to her, eager to look for a layup, when I realized where Oliver also had me beat in the matchup against his sister: his size. As hard as I backed into her, I couldn't budge Zoey. She was like a brick wall. I dribbled back out, whipped around, and by chance made the basket. I knew Zoey was athletic, but I'd never noticed how strong she was. Just from that one take, I could tell she was much stronger than me.

The game carried on slowly: she wasn't good enough to play offense, and she way too strong to let me score on defense. Eventually, I was able to whittle her down and find lucky openings enough times to win the game. Trash talk is not my strong suit, and my victory was less than glorious, so I elected to remain silent about my W (which was probably the first and only time anyone has won a game in the Robinson household without gloating about it -- they're a nice family, but they're a nice family of dirty trash-talkers). A glance at the sky told me the sun was getting ready to set, so it was probably around 8:00 -- otherwise known for the past week as time for another one of Zoey's shitty movies. I walked into the living room after Zoey. I had just ran downstairs to tuck away the basketball, taking a second to appreciate the mass of trophies, medals, and certificates that occupied the far wall of the basement. I could see Oliver's newest medal sitting on top of what must have been dozens of district finalist/winner medals. I walked back upstairs to the living room to see Zoey on the couch with popcorn, patting the seat next to her, movie already pulled up. I jumped over the back of the couch, landing squarely next to Zoey, ready for the movie.

"Hold on. Is that you or me?" Zoey looked at me with concern. At first I had no idea what she was talking about, then I caught a whiff of B.O.

"I think it might be both of us," I offered.

"I think you're right. Let's both shower before this place becomes a radiation hazard." Zoey and I chuckled as I ran upstairs to shower and she peeled off to her room.


I hustled back downstairs, ready for movie night. As I walked down, I saw Zoey in the same position on the couch -- legs crossed on the seat, leaning slightly in the direction I would be sitting. She typically sat pretty close to me when we watched movies and would sometimes touch shoulders with me. I didn't think anything of it and just assumed it was a girl thing. As I approached the couch, I noted that she had switched her athletic leggings and t-shirt for comfy pajama pants and a hoodie. I don't know what it is, but I've always thought girls wearing comfy clothes was super cute, and Zoey was no exception. No racey thoughts entered my mind, though. I was just excited to sit down with her and watch a terrible movie.

As I sat down, I realized she had a bottle of vodka on the table next to the couch, and a pretty damn tall glass of it right next to the bottle. "Hey, is it a good idea to drink that while you're home alone?" I asked. I didn't want to be rude, but I also wanted to be safe.

"Well A: I'm not home alone. You're being paid to look after me, remember? and B: I'm 21. It's perfectly fine and legal."

I couldn't argue with that logic, so I settled in with my Diet Coke and popcorn as the movie started. It was another Zoey-approved, terrible action movie. This one was about an undercover spy who had brain powers. As the plot went on and on, Zoey got more and more into it. Coincidentally, her bottle got emptier and emptier. Eventually, she stopped using the cup as a medium and drank straight from the mouth of the bottle. By the time the end credits rolled, she was standing on the couch yelling at the TV, absolutely enthralled by the spy's brain powers and the explosive ending to the movie. She took another large swig from the bottle.

"Hey, Zoey," I started, "I think you've had enough to drink." I stood up to try and take the bottle, but Zoey held it away from me, out of arm's reach. She giggled at her success at keeping her treasure safe. I rolled my eyes and snatched the bottle, rightfully assuming that Zoey's reflexes and strength were not at peak condition in that moment. Zoey groaned and tried to reach for the bottle in vain. "Zoey, seriously, I don't want you getting sick. She groaned again and I continued my game of keep-away until she stopped.

"You're a jerk," she said, pouting at me.

"I know," I said, shaking the bottle in her face, "but I'm the jerk with the bottle." I whipped it around to behind my back when she predictably snatched for it.

"Asshole. Give it here." She pouted, defeated. Then, a spark of light turned on in her eyes.

"I'll wrestle you for it."

"What? No! I'm not gonna wrestle you." I was shocked by the notion. I thought she was cute, but I was way too uncomfortable to roll around with her, especially when she was intoxicated and vulnerable.

"Chicken." Zoey stepped up, looking down at me and getting in my face

"I don't have to be a chicken to not want to wrestle you."

Zoey giggled. "You're scared cuz you know I'd win. Right, tough guy? You don't wanna 'cuz you know I'd kick your ass." She slurred the last few words of that last sentence. I knew I couldn't let her get back to the bottle.

"Of course I'm not scared, I'd kick your ass in a wrestling match, but not when you're drunk. I don't want you getting hurt." I wasn't actually sure I could kick her ass, or even beat her for that matter, but I figured acting tough would make her back down quicker.

That last part seemed to actually resonate with Zoey, and she seemed to stop going for the bottle. But the moment I let my guard down, she snatched it.

"Zoey!! No! Seriously!" I wasn't going to let her take another sip. As I approached, I saw a playful fire in her eyes as she held the bottle up to her lips, physically threatening to drink if I got any closer.

"Promise you'll wrestle me."


"Tomorrow, when I'm not drunk. Promise you'll let me kick your ass in a wrestling match."

I started to move closer but she lifted the bottle to her lips, centimeters away from drinking more. I backed down. "Fine. I promise to wrestle you tomorrow when you're sober if you promise to not have another drop tonight."

Zoey held up a pinky. She had only employed a pinky swear on me once before, so I knew this was an promise she expected us both to keep. I reluctantly locked my pinky with hers. She put away the vodka and headed to her room. Before staggering to the hallway, she glanced back and pointed at me. "Tomorrow, I'm gonna make you my bitch," she said before hiccupping, sticking her tongue at me, and venturing to her room. At a loss for words, I went upstairs to get some rest.


I woke up the next day just after noon. Overslept, I threw on some clothes and staggered downstairs to see Zoey wearing her hoodie and pajama pants from last night. One look at her disheveled appearance and groggy demeanor, and I assumed she completely forgot about last night. I was more than happy to not mention the match. I made myself some eggs and tossed a couple on the pan for Zoey. I gave her her breakfast (if you can call it that after noon), and rushed upstairs with mine, doing as little as possible to remind her of our agreement from last night. I got upstairs and started working on my spring trigonometry assignment (what kind of jackass teacher gives spring break assignments? Screw you, Mr. White). My phone buzzed about an hour later. It was Oliver, letting me know that he'd won his games and he'd not be back until tomorrow night, or even maybe Monday night depending on how well today went. I wished him luck for his next game and set my phone down. A moment after, my phone buzzed again. There wasn't enough time for that to have been Oliver. I checked it. It was from Zoey: "Come down to the basement, I set it up for our match."


I pinky swore I'd wrestle, and Zoey didn't forget. I begrudgingly made my way downstairs, hoping to get this over with as soon as humanly possible. Zoey was hot, but I didn't see how rolling around with her a few times would any be fun. At the base of the stairs, I surveyed the basement but did not see anything. I took a few steps forward, admiring the trophy wall while I wondered where Zoey could've been. Right before I turned around to go back upstairs, I heard Zoey's voice to my left: "In here, past the curtain!" I looked to my left and realized that the entire wall was actually a stiff black curtain that looked like one of the walls at first glance. I ducked under the curtain to enter the space. It was nothing like the unfinished basement: an 11'x11' room with red mats covering the floor, modern lighting, and a full length mirror covering the wall opposite the curtain. I took it all in for one moment before laying eyes on Zoey. She was standing authoritatively. One hip popped out, arms crossed, waiting for my entry. She was wearing a white sports bra and blue compression shorts that almost fully covered her ass, which I had a view of thanks to the mirror behind her. I tried not to look dumbfounded, but I wasn't expecting her to be wearing any less than sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her shorts showed off her toned legs -- round calves and thick thighs (evidence of her soccer career), which led up to her perfect butt. It was not too large but definitely not too small, and it was positioned perfectly in her one-hip-out posture she assumed, and perfectly visible in the large mirror behind her. Her upper body looked great, too: Her arms were toned but not super muscular, and her stomach was flat but did not have a six pack. Her bra fit her slightly-larger-than-average chest perfectly, and her hair fell over and around both of her toned shoulders. I peaked for a moment at her cleavage, unable to help myself, and looked away immediately. I began to sweat and I tried to look anywhere but at my soon-to-be opponent, not wanting her to see my reaction to her outfit and stature. She saw me looking around and must have assumed I was admiring the room.

"Yeah, this is where me and my mom do yoga. It's nice and out of place but its a decent sized room, so it was perfect for sleepovers and stuff when I had friends over. It's also great for dominating arrogant teenage boys." She did her trademark pretending-to-be-intimidating stare at me, but considering her outfit, height advantage, weight advantage, and strength advantage, that stare was terrifying. "Oh! And another thing before we start: lose the jeans."

I looked at her, dumbfounded. There was no way she was asking me to take my pants off in front of her.

"Now! Run upstairs and change, I don't want you giving me a friction burn while I'm kicking your ass."

Without hesitation, I obediently rushed behind the curtain and to my guest room. Panting, I took a moment to prepare myself for this match. She looked damn good, but I was going to go in there and knock her around until I won. Then, I would finish my trigonometry project. I changed as fast as I could into athletic shorts and a Nike t-shirt. I took a moment at the mirror to hype myself up, then I ventured back downstairs. When I lifted the curtain, Zoey was stretching, performing almost a full splits and reaching down the middle, her bare stomach almost flat to the mat. She noticed me and stood up.

"Okay, that's better," as she brushed off her legs, "now let me get into the rules."

I had promised to do this match, so I supposed it was only fair she should name the rules. "Alright, hit me."

Zoey crossed her arms again. "Well obviously, we're wrestling and not fighting. So no punching, kicking, biting, or scratching. I hope that stuff is obvious to you, yeah?"

I nodded in agreement, still trying to divert my gaze from her body.

"Okay. Rule One: Submissions are the only ways to score points. No pincounts. If one of us can really render the other immobile, they should be able to do it until their opponent gives up, not for just 10 seconds."

I saw the logic in this rule, but I also started to sweat a little. My entire plan was to come in, pin her down, and leave. I didn't know any submission holds! But she didn't either, did she?

"Rule Two: Only one person can score in every fall, and between falls, we have to go back to our sides of the room." Zoey indicated where they were both standing as their own sides. "However, when someone submits, the person who wins the fall can keep going. They don't need to let their opponent go, but they can't score points."

I foolishly didn't challenge this rule -- I thought that if you couldn't keep getting points, why would you keep going?

"And Rule Three:" Zoey smiled mischievously, "The winner will be decided by whoever is the first to 10 points."

That last rule shocked me. "Ten falls?? Zoey, that's a lot of wrestling."

"And? We're home alone for the whole weekend. Do YOU have anywhere better to be?" Zoey smirked and put her hands on her hips.

My first thought was about my trigonometry homework, but truth be told I had plenty of time to work on it. "No, I guess not."

"Okay, sweet! Let's get to it!" Zoey bounced up to shake hands. "Do you agree to play with my rules?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Pinky swear?" I sighed, looking at her hopeful expression, and I forfeited my pinky to the swear. She hopped twice out of excitement, clapping her hands together. I couldn't help but notice in the mirror how her behind bounced with her as she jumped.

We both assumed our sides of the room, ready for the first fall...
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Old 11-Oct-20, 21:45
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Naji Naji is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

thread approved
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Old 12-Oct-20, 01:02
daniel88 daniel88 is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

Great start to your first story! Congrats!
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Old 12-Oct-20, 08:23
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mixfightor mixfightor is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

Wow, I love the premise and character establishment in this story. I am fully invested in wanting to see Zoey crush Ethan. Did you say you will be sharing all ten falls of this match, or only falls five and six?

Regardless, I am definitely on board to read the whole thing, no matter how long it ends up being.

Thank you so much for writing this for us, mate.
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Old 12-Oct-20, 17:33
Hillnr01 Hillnr01 is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

This is a great start I love the character development and that Ethan doesn’t find it arrousing so it’ll be more humiliating to lose to a girl just having fun. Can’t wait to say how Zoey chooses to crush his ego
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Old 12-Oct-20, 18:18
squeezetoy squeezetoy is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

Agreed the fact he's not turned on the prospect of wrestling around with a superior athlete is going to make his emminent defeat all that more difficult to accept!
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Old 02-Dec-20, 13:47
Hillnr01 Hillnr01 is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

Hope ur doing well and that you’re still planning on continuing this story, the setup is super good, really think it could shape up to be a great one!
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Old 02-Dec-20, 18:32
Jared55455 Jared55455 is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

Wow, guys! I posted this so long ago and I guess went up haha! I have not put much into this story since I posted it but I can write more during break. I never even saw any reactions until today. My original thought was to post 2-3 falls at a time. They get longer as they continue so we’ll see. I have recently kind of moved away from mixed wrestling in general but this story is still super fun and I would be happy to keep updating it
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Old 03-Dec-20, 00:22
Redfish Redfish is offline
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Default Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

You really should update this, itís a fantastic start. Maybe the winner could as win something besides bragging rights. Some head scissor and facesitting would be nice as well. I hope to see this continue.
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Old 06-Dec-20, 04:27
This message has been deleted by wrestlefan2009. Reason: wasn't sure if it was appropriate to post a pic of me and didn't want to take away from his story
Old 18-Dec-20, 02:47
wrestlefan2009 wrestlefan2009 is offline
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Thumbs up Re: A Weak-End with Zoey

You HAVE TO continue this amazing story .... and make sure there are lots of stomach crushing hugs and scissors
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domination, mixed wrestling, older girl, teenage

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