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  #1  
Old 12-May-23, 14:56
gameking
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Default Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

So it came to this.

How many times have I rebooted the timeline? Four times maybe? The character’s brain should be pudding by now! When you find yourself at a point of no return, boxed into a corner and decide “screw it” and start fresh? You once fought a character from another story! And brought back a legacy character that never showed up again! What about the ladder match against Portman? Also, don’t start on the dozens if not in the higher twenties of promised matches that never came to fruition. You killed the series because you couldn’t figure out an Ortega match! Will that even happen? What’s it going to be? The retired jobber training a younger wrestler? We all know it’ll end with the original character going back into the tights to fight the big bad? Wow, HOW ORIGINAL. I wonder what celebrity you’ll base original characters on this time YOU HACK FRAUD!

No.

I’m just going to be me.

Boy that sounds scary.
_____________________________________________

I could take one helluva good beating or at-least make it look like I was taking a beating.

That’s why I’m here. Got a call, got in the car and drove over. The money gets transferred anonymously and NDA’s are signed.

Staring across from the ridiculously beautiful and sultry Ana De Armas. The Cuban woman who made being dressed in run-of-the-mill nurse clothing as a possible turn-on for many men. With piercing green eyes with a brown center, Ana was the type of woman that could make men melt into a puddle of nothingness with a glance. Lord knows I came close when she emerged from her changing room. The look was simple yet incredibly arousing.



A look like this is rather simple, but I’m a simple guy. The vibe of this being a spontaneous event with this impossibly hot girl you landed a date with and just happens to have a wrestling fetish. The look harkened back to an old photo of hers. White tank top, pair of brown bikini bottoms with her nipples erect through the top. Yes, she had been naked countless times but that picture was burnt into my mind. If I were to ever fight her, that’s the look I wanted. Being put through the paces by a dominant female who didn’t bother to don an intimidating get-up. As the sultry Cuban engaged in pre-match stretching, the feeling of dread was beginning to wash over me.

Ladies and gentlemen, dying time is here.

We met at the center of the strewn about blankets that served as the ring. The call was so spontaneous that finding gym mats was out of the question and again it added to the vibe I talked about earlier. I tried to keep my composer as small talk dominated the room but those eyes were melting me on the inside. Perhaps that was her plan as she stayed locked on me while I tried to look anywhere else. The rules were simple, first one to successfully knock out their opponent wins. Usually, I go for more of first submission wins but my anxiety levels were off the charts.

Both of our arms were fully extended on our shoulders in a lock-up. We began pushing back and forth for position and I was too damn distracted staring into her that I never saw it coming. Her left knee shot up into her stomach, taking me off the ground for a moment, landing right below the navel. The air in my body proceeded to hastily exit like passengers escaping a drowning ship. I could do nothing in response as the knee dug in, my insides screaming out in anguish. All I could was dry heave as the actress threw one more debilitating knee to the same area, a “GODDAMNIT” and my moans of pain filled the room. This one doubled me over, my hands clutching my inflamed abdomen. On the surface area, the pain was red hot, the feeling off a thousand little knives stabbing it. My insides however, it felt more like a thousand Jason Voorhees swinging a thousand machetes on the inside.

Ana backed as I called her every dirty word in my inner monologue, holding my stomach. Not only was the pain unreal yet I couldn’t comprehend the situation at hand. It’s like the blows had short criticized my body and brain, I didn’t expect this level of an attack right out of the gate. My game plan went from being amazing on paper to jack and shit and jack just left town. Ana came forward as I turned around staring a hole into her. Anger was flowing through my body as I lunged at her. The actress side stepped the desperate lunge, this time using my momentum to force me onto the floor. Face down on the floor, Ana pinned me to the floor with her left foot and dropped all her body weight on the middle of my back. All 120 or so (Google’s guess) came crashing down as I yelled out in pain. She grabbed one arm, forcing it around my throat while keeping the grip. Panic set in as I tried to play keep away with the other but she caught it and wrapped it around.

They called it the Japanese Strangle Hold on some sites, but this was more of a Japanese Strangle Clutch. The Camel Clutch sucks enough, a Full Nelson Clutch should be outlawed in all fifty states but Japanese Strangle Clutch might possibly be a Geneva Convention violation. The triple threat of Armas pushing her weight down while violently pulling me backwards while choking the life out of me was enough to reconsider this gig. Oh and the same stomach that received two brutal and violent knees were being pushed into the unforgiving floor. The knees had me dry heaving and regretting eating a hot dog for lunch. This had my windpipe slowly being crushed as I desperately fought to escape. I tried to get my knees up but I couldn’t. Ana was beginning to pull me up higher and higher my back bending at angle that medical science never intended to be accomplished. Ana, either out of mercy and cruelty let go of the hold as I remained flat on my stomach. My upper body was writhing in pain, as the seductive actress took a seat in front of me, grabbing my hair and forcing it into a figure figure head scissors. If I had to pic a scissors to go out in, this was it. The visuals of a male being put to sleep and cameras filming as the loser is fast asleep between their opponents thighs. Ana didn’t seem hell bent on putting me out when she could’ve used her force and end this right here, the feeling that she was drawing this out began screaming in my head. Ana had some serious power as she choked away, my throat becoming hoarse from heaving. Ana even pulled down on her free foot to increase pressure, my vision becoming blurry. The blood supply being cut left my body feeling lifeless, almost like I was floating in water. I was close to going out when Ana suddenly let go. It wasn’t out of mercy as she grabbed my hair, holding me in place. I could see her knees rear backwards as she quickly moved them forward, both knees smacking into my ears. One blow had me so disoriented it wasn’t funny, the Cuban knew what she was doing. My ears were ringing like someone had just shot a gun right by me.

This time, I was dragged to a standing position. The impact of the double knee made getting up seemingly impossible. I almost went down to one knee and I knew Armas was pleased. I looked more like a Mortal Kombat fighter about to be the victim of a fatality and that comparison feels right in those situation. The look on Ana’s face was of an opponent running through ways to finish this opponent. Finally she settled on the finishing moves of most males, the dreaded bearhug. Ana locked her hand in the middle of my back, arms wrapped and began squeezing. One hand her knuckles digging into the same area as she dropped her full weight on as I could do NOTHING. Not even that, but she had me off the ground as I futilely looked for an escape. There was no escape, she had made sure to trap my arms. If my hands were free, I’d fight fire with fire with stereo slaps to the eardrums kicking of my comeback but I was COOKED. I could do nothing but groan and glance at Ana, smiling and content with her destruction.

Finally, I passed out. The pressure on my rib cage from the move had restricted full breathing and with the oxygen supply to my brain being cut off, it was a matter of time. Ana gently dropped me to the floor, one sock on my face, the cotton and polyester grinding into my face. and a biceps pose later, The Hollywood Jobber was back in business. The match had been a quick one sided affair, destruction on a level that hadn’t been seen since a Midnight Express squash at Techwood Drive.

Welcome Back Jobber.
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  #2  
Old 12-May-23, 18:30
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

I want to echo those last words, mate.

Quote:
Originally Posted by gameking [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Welcome Back Jobber.
You somehow managed to make the preternaturally gorgeous Ana De Armas appear even more stunning in my imagination as you described this fight. Perhaps it is the way you married her beautiful appearance with a no nonsense, efficient brutality as she kneed you hard enough to drive the air out of your lungs and choked you out in the Japanese strangle hold variation of the camel clutch. it is almost fitting that no words were said between you, as the struggle was primal and all consuming. As for the end of the fight, I think I have some small inkling now of why some guys love the bearhug submission so much. To be looking helplessly into the eyes of your opponent, even as she crushes the air out of you... Damn.

Welcome back, Jobber. Welcome home.
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  #3  
Old 13-May-23, 12:55
gameking
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

I am not going to lie, I was too lazy to try and write dialogue in Ana’s accent. I just went with no dialogue after I butchered writing a whole bunch of British accents for the Watson/Gillan/Atwell matches way back in the day.

Sometimes laziness pays off.
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Old 21-May-23, 15:21
gameking
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

A few weeks had passed since the De Amas Drubbing, one of the very few matches with no jobber offense. Usually those matches are reserved for matches with professional wrestlers. I get it. I’m not there to get some shine, I’m there to take a drubbing and hopefully when I see a spot on TV that happened to me, it’s their little tribute. Guess what this weeks match is? A match with a professional wrestler. Not just any wrestler, but Trish Goddamn Stratus. Canada’s finest export (Sorry Letterkenny, Maple Syrup, Bret Hart, John Candy or Rock Mora is), Gods gift to horny teenage (and adult) wrestling fans. The very name echoes photos upon photos of blonde hair, tanned skin, tight clothing accentuating big breasts and a bubble butt that had us in a hammerlock. Or a body slam if your an out of touch sports writer.

I am blessed.

Trish the Dish.

Trish is turning heel and needs a body to ping pong around the ring. I wondered why not ask one of the dozens of gymnasts turned wrestlers whose ACL’s are turning to dust in that performance center you got? Then I saw the big picture. Trish hasn’t worked as a heel since 2004/5 and when you’ve gone that long being the babyface (or blue eye) a three day jaunt to a performance center will accomplish nothing. You need to feel like a heel, you need to get in there with some ham and egger and just beat the tar out of them. Protect them, but make them feel like you would send them to god if this was a real fight.

Luckily, I’m getting paid a handsome amount for this. And getting some offense!

Usually in these affairs, I’d wear my basic gear, the Sleeperkid Special. T-shirt and gym shorts with wrestling boots so I don’t get MRSA from wrestling barefoot. It almost happened to a friend of mine, looking at you Double Trouble. This time, I really wanted to play the role of sad sapp preliminary boy on the verge of a royal shit kicking. So, I hit Highspots and bought generic flame and dragon pleather pants that went out of style in 2001, a rash guard and the saddest looking pair of elbow and knee pads imaginable. Trish wore rather basic black unitard that showed off the still killer body she possesses at forty-seven years of age. With boots of course, but it was all black to portray her as the villain. And she looks very good in black, just ask any former teenage wrestling fan in the 2000s.

(Remember folks, this is a work.)

The match began with no lockup attempt at all, just Trish gutting my stomach with a swift knee and a quick body slam that had me writhing on the mat. We had a “referee” but that “referee” is more ceremonial than useful. I tried to get up and even made to all fours before she backed up and launched a field goal kick into my ribs, I wrapped my hands around them out of muscle memory. Which of course left me vulnerable. Trish grabbed my legs, spread them wide and then teased dropping another kick into my stomach. My eyes pleaded with her and pleaded even more when she hovered her black boot over my crotch. She nodded no and I let out a painful sigh of relief. Then she cruelly dropped her knee full force on my crotch! I wore a cup but you know what? IT STILL HURTS. I could’ve coughed up a testicle, that’s how painful it was. Trish forced me up and brutally whipped me into one corner, the cheap buckling doing little to protect me as she stalked towards me. I could do nothing as she whipped me across the ring and I took the buckle full first to the chest, the old Bret Hart special. I heard about how those took years off his career and I could see why, my entire chest felt aflame. I hugged it as Trish came up to me, lifted my head and slammed it repeatedly into the top buckle, five times my head bounced off the padding. Trish maneuvered me to be facing her, as the ropes was the only thing holding me up.

Trish was cackling at the site of this pathetic jobber, methodically stomping a mud hole in my stomach. I’m pretty sure the “ref” was checking his phone and was only there to make sure I didn’t get handsy or go off the agreement. Which makes sense because most refs aren’t 6’6 and look like they juggle refrigerators and yell back at cops in their spare time. Trish then made this ordeal a little bit more worthwhile by sticking her legendary breasts in my face, trying to “smother” me out with them. Hey, I didn’t ask it but I’m not complaining or objecting. I think it was a thank you for letting me a human pinball for ten or so minutes.

I had the best/worst job!

Anywho, that put me of dream street as she boosted me to the top turnbuckle. What came next was me coming to and her legs around my head as she got with me that headscissor throw that made everybody think “Goddamn she’d be a perfect Sonya Blade”. To which I agree but still being thrown off the top rope and hitting the ring still resulted in a few swears being groggily thrown out. Trish placed one boot on my chest as the ref counted and she of course took her foot off at one. What came next was finish time as she hit with the greatest hits of her female rivals finish blows. First she got me in a front face lock, leaped and planted me head first with a Mickie-DT (Mickie James). My head bounced off the mat like a basketball, Trish did her best to protect me. Second was another gut shot and another instance of her driving me head first into the mat with a pedigree (Stephanie McMahon). The type you’d see in the Smackdown games when Trips would drive the opponent head first before anything else hit the mat. I’m an idiot, I insisted on it. At this point, I was “coherent”, well coherent enough but I was feeling it. Trish again drilled me in the stomach and lifted me for The Widows Peak (Victoria). Having been the victim of the hangman submission, it might be my least favorite. The feeling of helplessness being lifted off the floor and being forced to stare up and your back get bent and you slowly pass out if some right. Trish me up in the air for a few seconds before driving me knees first and my neck bent backwards and jammed into her shoulder. That blow almost pit me out legit, when done right it can really shock somebody’s system. I think Trish knew I was about done because the Twist of Fate (Lita) was just about the safest move I could take and she protected me. My body was still ablaze in agony as she called for the end and forced me up. Trish pushed me against the ropes and when I bounced back she landed the most devastating Chick Kick she could. I think Mickie’s sell will always be the best but mine was pretty damn good. I stumbled backwards, then down to one knee and finally the other one before falling over.

Trish placed a boot on my chest with a bicep pose as the ref counted a swift three but she demanded a ten count. Which of course this being a paid-off ref obliged her.

Well..jobbers gonna job.
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Old 21-May-23, 20:12
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

I thought it might be difficult to top De Armas, but the nostalgia of seeing heel Trish Stratus in action was really satisfying. Not only that, but the Quintessential Diva put on a clinic featuring some of the best finishers from some of the best Divas from the Attitude Era.

I loved it.

Thank you also for leaning into the Jobber role, mate.
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Old 02-Jun-23, 03:00
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

After the pro-style destruction at the hands of Trish Stratus, I found myself itching to return to the ring. I had faced plenty of professional wrestlers and wouldn’t you know it, I’ve had plenty of losses! The concept of besting a professional wrestler in combat is abhorrent. I did wrestle professionally for a few years before this, I took my bumps and learned to respect the business. I left that world for the even more imaginary world of fetish wrestling. I’ve faced my share of muscle mommies (Cargill and Ripley) to The Bellas and even Stephanie McMahon. All gorgeous women in tip-too shape, but there’s one fantasy out there.

Getting smashed by a bigger female opponent.

Bull Nakano.

Reggie Bennett.

Two bigger female opponents who still managed to be incredibly sexy to a weirdo like me. Imagine getting thrashed by Nakano, being beaten with any available plunder, even get choked with nunchucks. Imagine being placed in an inverted scorpion deathlock, your body hoisted above the mat and your body and bent to its maximum limit. Right when your ready to utter a cry of submission she lets go and drags you to the corner. From there you can only dread and do nothing as she climbs to the top rope. The crowd violently calling for your demise like this is the Roman Coliseum. Your body is so weakened and battered that rolling out of the way would require an act of God. You resign to this fate horrendous fate as she jumps off the top rope and drives her leg right on your throat with a guillotine leg drop. Breathing compromised to such a point it’s barely functioning as she mercifully ends with match with a pin.

Bennett bringing her full weight from the top rope, death from above. Her flesh colored stocks glisten against the bright lights from above. Do I have a thing for stockings? Maybe. But they also think I have a foot fetish because every celebrity on earth was told by Lawrence to pose that way. INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY! to your rib cage is more like it. After that? It’s a buffet of tosses and slams, each blow breaking your body down and turning your spinal cord into a fine powder one could season a steak with. You get sent into the corner as she runs full forces and barges you against the corner. Her massive shoulders slice through your core with each brutal bartering ram low. You can do nothing as she easily hoists you up on her shoulders. She parades you
around the ring like a Hunter showing off his prized kill. To her, you weigh nothing and it will take nothing to break you in the human torture rack. Your back is back at an utmost painful angle as you can do nothing but scream in pain. Finally you give in a verbally call it quits. If your lucky, she’ll let go.

As you can see, I’m into this. So I found the perfect foil, this time I was venturing into the modeling world. My record is a crisp 0-1 thanks a brutal Kate Upton beating. My opponent would be the voluptuous and curvy Ashley Graham, that of the plus sized world. If I can choose the fort of my large destructor, might as well go top shelf.

I went into the karate getup and came to found out that Ms. Graham was game to dominate me pro-style. I’ve always enjoyed seeing some poor bastard in karate getup getting dominated by a pro wrestler. I might even write a story about it on a mixed wrestling forum with two sequels. She even took some rudimentary wrestling classes so she could toss me around the ring, albeit safely. I didn’t expect but it sure heightened my anticipated slaughter. Word got around and apparently Ana De Armas cautioned her to not completely obliterate me, but just leave just enough of me alive so she could finish me off.

Well, I guess we know the new big bad?

Graham arrived wearing white wrestling boots with tan stockings and a black one-piece swimsuit with her names written on the front in gold cursive. The outfit accentuated everything men drool over:



We had no ref as this was an agreed knockout only match and with me fallen under the knocked out rule, a ref wouldn’t do much. I knew what was coming, a barrage of slams, submissions and core destroying blows. Ashley seemed downright chipper at the prospect of destroying me and might I add that type of enthusiasm makes this a bit fun.

We locked up and I almost nabbed a headlock before she pushed me across the ring. I might have the weight advantage but she certainly has the body advantage. Graham did the fat bad guy bicep pose (The Ode to Earthquake), playing to the imaginary crowd. I approached again and locked back up again. This time there was no headlock attempt as Graham pushed me off with ease. This time she took the middle of the ring and taunted me to come at her. I approached pensively but instead went behind and tried a waist lock. Almost immediately Graham turned around and now I was facing her. I judged the predicament, my hands are wrapped up and I stupidly tried to drag her down.

I was cooked.

BOOM!

Her arms went high in the air and slammed down on my the sides of my neck. This wasn’t a knockout karate chop this was a knockout karate hammer fist. I went down to both knees, the shock of the blows had on my carotid artery and the vagus nerves had me dizzy and near punch drunk. Graham hoisted me up by the dogi and I was pushed into the corner. Much like the Stratus match the ropes were equal parts savior and sinner. Yes it kept me up right and being tossed to the floor was surely result in more damage. It also trapped me and left me open…for more damage. Graham was sizing me up before some *light* forearm shivers to the stomach. Not enough to do some real damage but enough to tenderize my stomach for the forthcoming blows. Graham put one hand on the top rope and the other on the middle and reared back. About five consecutive hip thrusts had me gasping for air and the sweet release of death. Each blow saw Graham take her time, driving the hip into the stomach after landing said blow. Breathing was a luxury and I had about a buck fifty in my pocket. Graham backed up and the visual of The Jobber slumped in the corner barely standing up trying to breathe was a pitiful sight. Graham backed up, charged and barged me in the corner full force, squashing me between her voluptuous body and the corner. Any oxygen left in my body was evaporated.

Graham again grabbed the dogi and sent me tumbling across the ring. I could barely stand as Graham locked me in a full Nelson. Not the sexiest of holds but when she has the strength to lift you off the ground and swing you around it’s quite sexy. I kept telling myself this is what I signed up as she wrenched my arms back and my head forced down at a painful angle. Finally Graham maneuvered me to the ropes and let go, pushing me against them. I bounced back and Graham landed a straight forearm to the middle back. I bowled in pain and went down to my knees. I slumped forward against the middle rope as Graham’s shin went across my neck and began choking me against the ropes. I gagged and tried to fight it off but it was no use. Graham eventually backed off but I was so sapped of energy that O could do nothing but stay there. Graham took off and nailed the old Kevin Nash leaping body guillotine my throat slamming into the steel cable. Graham sat on a bit before getting back up as I crumbled to the mat.

The rope based assault wasn’t over yet even as my throat felt like it had the worst sore throat in the history of sore throat’s. Graham laid me face first under the bottom rope. Both boots went on the bottom rope, her hands grasped on the top rope. My inflamed throat felt like it had just downed a bottle of whiskey mixed with ghost pepper hot sauce now as I could do nothing but feebly kick my legs on the mat. Graham eventually let one hand go but this wasn’t an act of mercy it was to grab my hair and pull my throat into the ropes even more. Finally she relented and dragged my broken carcass to the middle of the ring. I was pulled up into a seated position as she wrapped her thick beautiful legs around my wounded waist. I saw the legs wrap around in a figure four and dreaded the next series. Graham squeezed the life out of my body, never going 100 percent but just enough to establish me place in this match. To be crushed underneath her. I tried to free myself but my core was being crushed like a car in a compactor. Graham even pushed herself off the ground just to ratchet the pressure. I could feel myself going out but a voice whispered that it wasn’t time yet. Graham released the soul sapping scissors leaving in a pile of jobber. I was facing up at the lights trying to get my body to function normally.

In reality, I was stalling.

Finally Graham had enough of my stalling tactics and dropped a vicious elbow on my chest, her elbow smashing into my sternum. All I could was cry out in pain as Graham brought another down, this time targeting my oatmeal like stomach. This time she grinded that elbow into my stomach even pushing down with her free hand. I could do little but groan as Graham took off into the ropes and dropped the Andre the Giant hip drop from No Mercy. The auto knockout if done at the right moment, unfortunately it wasn’t as her hip crashed down into my throat. My legs again comically kicking up and down. Graham was ready for some more submission domination as she pulled me up. I had one hand on the rope to hold me up, from my hair to toe were inflamed. Graham planted a big boot straight into my belly button, but now my jacket had been undone completely. I now looked like a bruised broken fighter in over my head. I went to one knee and almost doubled over but Graham scooped me up and paraded me around the ring before stopping in the middle. I felt my lifeless body go up in the air and coke crashing down across her knee. *CRACK* *CRACK* echoed throughout the room as Graham grabbed my chin and pushed down.

I could do little except scream as the middle of my back was being bent over her knee. Graham eventually used her free arm, realizing a surprise kick out of nowhere was a joke. Graham’s first went high as she battered my stomach with a few punches. The backbreaker is a male wrestler special in those videos, the visual of a female in agony being bent over their knee. The camera getting the money shot of the female’s cleavage. Much like the Armas bearhug, this was a sign that the power dynamic was changing in these matches. Another move that producers love to have males put females in, the Over the Shoulder Backbreaker. Guess what so found myself in? You guessed it, the Over the Shoulder the Backbreaker! Graham paraded around the ring, pulling my annihilated back over her shoulder. My arms and legs were flailing about as I closed my eyes and that’s a true level of pain. Finally Graham went to one corner and took off towards the nearest diagonal corner. I could wince as I knew what was coming. Graham had lowered me just enough so that my battered body was perfectly even the corner. And then she charged

SLAM! My entire body was slammed against the corner and her 194 pound frame. I had been crushed and pulverized into a heap as Graham backed up as I slowly slid down the corner. Graham stalked and dragged me by the wrist over to the middle. I was hoisted up and sent into the ropes Graham pursuing and the moment my back hit the ropes, my chest was almost caved in with a lariato. If it was to the face it would’ve KO’d me immediately. Instead, I found myself seated on the middle rope, only being held up by my hands on the top rope. Graham approached smiling at the total domination she had brought upon me. More blows to my exposed chest, each boot echoing throughout the room. I had no resistance, my insides felt wrecked as she dragged me off and pushed me into the corner. Graham turned her back to me and beg and thrusting her behind into me, Andre the Giant style. Pulling her body forward for maximum force before slamming into my pitiful body. After about six of these, I could barely function and hoped this would soon. My body was in complete agony as Graham showed mercy.

I was down to both knees as the dominant diva scooped me up, trapped my arms in the bearhug. I could barely murmur or function as she slowly crushed my ribs between her arms. I was forced up in the air and paraded around the ring, my head resting on her tan shoulders. I knew what was coming next as she boosted me up and dropped her full body weight on me. I was crushed between the hard mat and her 194 pound frame. I was basically a drooling zombie husk of myself but Graham was ready to take this beating home. I had never been so throughly beaten and dominated by an opponent like this. Yeah I took my bearings this was another of strategy and sadism. I was dragged back up my entire body in agony as she prepared to hoist me in the air.

The Human Torture Rack.

This time, the front of my body was facing away from her as I could only stare at the empty wrestling gym. I was oblivious to what was coming as she paraded me around the ring like a prized slab of raw meat. Finally she began to rack me, even grabbing my boots and neck, pulling me toward like she working out on a peck-deck. I could only do nothing but cry out in pain and made no attempt to escape. Finally I let out one last year of pain and I finally passed out, giving up the one sided battle.y body was completely limp, one helluva sell job as Graham marched to the middle of the ring. In one last screw you, she suddenly dropped to her knees leave me with one last jolt of back pain. I rolled off her and hit the mat in a heap finally landing face first. Graham got up and planted her boot on the back of my head in a victory pose.
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Old 02-Jun-23, 13:29
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

Folks, this is a rarity but here is a deleted scene. The fun of writing this while being dead tired and accidentally deleting the whole match led to this. Luckily, I obsessively copy and paste the entire story before hitting the preview button. Enjoy, the rare Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot Deleted Scene!

Quote:
Graham’s bearhug left me a quivering mess of a man after the drop. My entire spinal cord was inflamed and three days laying on an electric blanket set to 100 and a king size bottle of Bayer wasn’t going to help. Graham stood above me, surveying her destruction as I saw her take off into the ropes. What could it be? A big splash? A seated senton? Why it just crush my damn ribs ready and puncture my lungs. What happened next was even worse. Having the leg dropped on you is bad, but having a large woman’s hip dropped on you? That’s worse. I barely turned my head in team to persevere my pearly whites. It didn’t matter because Graham’s hip smashed my face when into the mat, it felt like getting hit full force in the face with a bat. It also didn’t help that my ear took the brunt of the damage leaving me dazed, confused and other mid-1990’s Richard Linklater films. I could feel the indent her stockings left on my face, the things you do for this business.

Graham dragged me by the ankle to the corner and took a seat on the top rope. I knew what was coming and I was dreading it. Graham stood on the second rope, arms crossed ready to deliver some death from above. Yet, she spared me. That’s great right?

WRONG.

Yes she spared me from a second rope splash and instead moved up to the top rope, knees bent, hands hugging the ropes. She wasn’t going to stand up like a wrestler but I was having visions of Nakano and Bennet perched atop the top rope. The fans calling for them to reign down the pain, and I could no thing about it. My body was paralyzed in fear as Graham came off the top rope. The splash wasn’t pretty but it didn’t need to be. It need to induce the maximum amount of pain. And guess what? It did. I could feel myself deflating under her might, my feet kicking up in the air. Any oxygen left inside of me crashed and burned upon escape like the Hindenburg. Graham got off me as I curled into a fetal post it ion, clutching my stomach. Graham wasn’t done as few “get over it” boot stomps rained down upon me. Graham rolled me over and I was now facing the dirty mat. Graham again ascended to the top and again brought her 194 pound frame across my back. This resulted in a hellish scream on my end and I was done. My face came off the mat to scream but now I was facedown. I had zero energy left, the will to win was nowhere to be found. I didn’t even have the will to mount the meekest and saddest Saturday morning Jobber offense.

I knew the end was coming and I was paying for the sins of video makers of the past. Those that filmed males racking and hugging beautiful and well endowed women so they could get cleavage shots.

I was the ritual sacrifice, the olive branch to the other sex who was proving their newfound power based domination over men.
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Old 02-Jun-23, 21:47
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

Damn, Rich. Ashley squashed you, both literally and figuratively.

Oh, and the Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot Deleted Scene? Chef's kiss!

Thank you very much for your commitment to the jobber name.
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Old 05-Jun-23, 14:41
gameking
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

I’m paying for the sins of the less than reputable business I’m in.

A Majority of the folks in the fetish wrestling business like to think what they do is legitimate. That weirdos are forking over $29.99 to appreciate the on screen product. That’s when my brief period in the professional wrestling business has a hearty laugh. Those empty building wrestling matches you would tape before or after a show or at a wrestling school. It’s a better payday than doing two weekends of shows and I never held anybody against doing them. We all knew who the main demographic was for these shoots. If anybody thought different, they’d be shocked when the same venue was featured for a catifght site.

Now, I’m a not so professional wrestler anymore. I lasted about two more years until I went the more honest route. “Yes we know that you want Mutiny using her breasts and ass to smother this guy out, here you go!” Being in California meant that our business is the greasy underbelly to the glitz and glamour of Tinseltown. Failed actors and actresses come our way because the pay is stable and you can still tell Aunt Judy at home that you have steady work in Hollywood come Christmas time.

I lucked into this gig a long time ago. Most people in this gig only last a few years, some a few months. I’m mentally stable, low to no ego, personable and not taking everybody steroid or drug known to mankind. One person lasted one match against Anne Hathaway and that was it. I chalk it up to the dues I had to pay in wrestling, the tough it out mentality when you have to grit through months of shows with a torn meniscus. The money helps now that I take my own bookings and get 100% of the fee. Ten thousand dollars along with NDA’s and a recording of the match for “insurance” purposes. The reality of the footage is to keep Hollywood in check. Get a bit aggressive or try any funny business? A video recording of that match goes to the front desk of every gossip blog and dirt sheet in town. It’s all done old school with a video camera, none of this cloud bullshit.* Watching the Armas and Graham matches, the way they went about picking me apart was a message. You can’t win with your bullshit fetish wrestling offense and we’re certainly going to make you pay for your time in that industry. Hollywood has caught up to your tricks and games and I expect every actress has been trained to break The Cross Face Chicken-Wing by now. If I’m going to win, I need to fight fire with fire.

*There was one match in another timeline against some starlet that was during s low point in my life. And the series. Suffice to say that I was a bit…ahem…evil and possibly a creepy bastard in it. It was also filmed withs cell phone and footage of the match has gone missing.

Until today.

Footage exists! And now I have to fight for my goddamn life to get it back. If not, it gets released and this whole thing goes up in flames. An old old rival has it. That rival? Lawrence? Nope. Dennings? Nope. McMahon? Nope.

Natalie Goddamn Portman.

One of the toughest bouts of my career came against her. Portman has always been aggressive in pursuing a rematch. I never liked the vibe so I rightly avoided it even when big money was offered. The only clue of what I was walking into was two texts messages. One telling me to win I’d have to climb the ladder and this video:

[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

Subtly is not her friend.

(OOC: I’ve always wanted to write a ladder match for this series. It’s a challenge for me and I hope this isn’t a total disaster. Just a mild one!)
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Old 17-Jun-23, 14:32
gameking
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Default Re: Confessions of a Hollywood Reboot

Uh yeah…I hate to do this but I’m absolutely shitcanning the whole ladder match concept. I’ve been writing it for the past eleven days and realized that it sucks and not in that so bad it’s good way. It sucks, it’s boring and I’ve never shtitcanned a story during the writing process. I thought writing a ladder match without any highspots of brain trauma would be a challenge but all it did was kill the will to write. So I apologize and there will be a story soon but I’m not falling into the old announced opponent trap. It’ll happen sooner than later but to quote the Duke Nukem Forever development team: It’ll be done when it’s done.

Stupid brain.
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