Friday, November 30, 2018

Captain’s Crew - part 2: Three falls (written by Harry)

This is the second part of a wonderful sequel to Harry's awesome story Captain's Cradle featuring high school wrestler Logan and additional characters introduced in Fighting dirty (Damon meets Logan). I hope you'll enjoy it just as much as I do!

Previous parts:
Captain's Cradle
Captain's Crew - part 1: Monday is gonna be a bitch

Warning: Can contain traces of cum.

Featured in this story: Logan (click for pictures)

Malik was right on time. He had texted Rafa and Jaylen, but so far they had not responded. He was keenly aware that he was on enemy turf, and his natural swagger was mellowed by his suspicion of unfamiliar places and people who looked down on him. “Mother fuckers,” he muttered, shoving open the door to the Bartlet High wrestling room. Across the room Logan Krueger was murmuring into his phone. Malik couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the blonde punk was grinning and looking too pleased with himself. He was still slightly sweaty from practice, and he still wore an old practice singlet under a Bartlet sweatshirt. Logan had pulled up one half of his head gear to hold the phone, and his blonde hair jutted up roguishly. When he spotted Malik his smile faltered. The teens locked eyes for a long moment, then Logan’s smile returned and grew even bigger than before. “Babe,” he spoke into the phone without breaking eye contact, “I gotta go…No, no, I’ll see you later for sure…Of course I wouldn’t miss that…Damn, girl, I’ll be ready…” He shrugged sheepishly at Malik, who was looking impatiently, and reached down to adjust his junk. “Uuuhh for real though, I gotta go,” he said throatily, “I love you, bye.”

Malik stood a few feet away, and his rage multiplied with each passing second. “Hi. It’s great to see you again! But this is a bad time,” Logan stated, extending his hand.

Malik ignored him and pulled off his hoodie. He was going to keep this thing simple. “Fight me, bitch.” Logan looked at him sidelong and took note of his rippling deltoids and softball sized biceps, which were sleeved with tattoos. Logan was no slouch, but he knew he gave up a few pounds to the angry looking bull on the other side of the mat.

“Yea, that’s what I guessed you wanted, but this really is a bad time,” Logan repeated with a shrug. “I’m sorry I can’t fight right now.” Logan sounded sincerely disappointed, but he made no move to square up. Malik found this confusing, which only infuriated him more. Meanwhile Logan had resumed playing on his phone and ignoring the very angry muscle boy who was staring him down.

Malik closed the remaining distance until he stood toe to toe with Logan. He had just begun to make his final threat when the door at the far end of the room banged open. A dozen or so wrestlers entered carrying long poles meant for rolling up the wrestling mats. They were sweaty and disheveled and looked like they had just finished practice. They were horsing around and laughing when they entered, but when one boy noticed that a large black guy was right up in their varsity captain’s face, they dropped what they were doing and ran over. In no time Malik was encircled by a pissed and suspicious looking ring of Bartlet High freshman and sophomore wrestlers. They didn’t know exactly what was going on, but it was easy to tell that Malik was a threat. Logan smiled apologetically. “JV squad was goofing off today, so they have more workouts to finish.”

Malik looked around the circle and weighed his chances if he decided to take on the whole team. It didn’t look like he had a ton of options. Suddenly the opposite door banged open again, and Rafael sprinted across the room and slid into the middle of the circle. Malik had never been happier to see his boy, and they bumped fists.

“Sorry, I got tied up,” the black haired jock said, panting. “Um, I mean…I didn’t literally, but…” He trailed off. “Never mind. I thought Blondie was supposed to be alone?” he asked.

“My bad,” Malik shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess their practice goes later than ours. No big.” Since he had just been considering taking on the entire team by himself, he liked his odds even better with Rafa on his side.

Logan cleared his throat loudly, interrupting their conversation. The pair of intruders looked around the ring of hostile faces. Rafael fidgeted, wishing they could talk their way out. But Malik was getting his swagger back at the worst possible time. Tossing aside his hoodie, he pointed at Logan and repeated: “Fight me, bitch.”

The ring of Logan’s JV teammates “ooooooohhh”ed in reply and began to close in threateningly on the two outsiders. Logan himself grinned, and his dimples appeared over his strong jaw. Rafael sighed and put up his fists.


A shrill whistle startled the teens and momentarily snapped them out of their aggressive postures. The side door banged once again, and a referee strode quickly to the middle of the mats. The wrestlers were confused by the sudden appearance of a referee after practice on a non-competition day, and the ring parted to allow him to enter. They were even more confused that the referee appeared to be about their age. But he carried himself with confidence and had an air of command, so they didn’t ask any questions.

“Thanks for your patience. I appreciate that you didn’t consider starting without me.” The ref looked around the circle pointedly. Judging by Malik's and Rafael’s open mouths, they were no less surprised by the referee’s appearance than the Bartlet High team was, but of course they had recognized Jaylen immediately. Malik quickly recovered his surprise and started chuckling, but before he could say anything, Jaylen blew his whistle again.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s get this thing started. World Heavyweight Championship match today, am I right?” For the first time since entering the practice room, Jaylen looked at Logan. They locked eyes for a moment, but neither teen betrayed his intentions. It had taken Logan a minute to recognize the slim teen in the referee’s shirt, but once he got close up, Logan recognized Damon’s brother. The two shared the same smooth brown skin, wide-set eyes, and aura of leadership. Logan had no idea what the kid was up to, but he decided that going along with it would be more entertaining than letting his teammates beat the shit out of Damon’s dumbass friends. Without a word, Logan raised his hand.

Jaylen nodded at him, and Logan showed his dimples in full force. “Present,” Logan said.

Jaylen was wary, but he recovered quickly. “Um, thanks,” he said, “and you are…?”

“Logan Krueger. World Heavyweight Champion,” he said cockily. “Sorry, I seem to have left my belt in my locker.”

The crowd of wresters watching the exchange chuckled, and Jaylen could feel a subtle shift as Logan took command of the room. But Jaylen had prepared for every eventuality. Unzipping his backpack, Jaylen respectfully withdrew a black and gold plastic belt. His brother Boom would be furious if he knew his World Championship belt was stolen…but Boom was not here. He held the belt up for inspection.

The watching crowd immediately began to comment and chuckle. They still had no idea what Jaylen was about, or why a teenage referee was holding up a plastic belt, but it was certainly more fun than whatever practice drills Logan had planned for them. Logan cracked up along with the rest of his team. Damon’s kid brother had some balls to come into his mat room with a plastic belt, but good on him. Logan asked to inspect the belt and acknowledged loudly that it must have fallen out of his locker during lunch. The crowd laughed even harder.

The good mood in the room grew until it was abruptly snuffed out by Malik. The muscled jock didn’t know what Jaylen was up to, but he was not going to joke around with the shit head Blondie. He quietly stepped out of his sweats, so he was wearing just his red Pro Combat 3/4 leggings and a matching tank. Stepping back into Logan’s face, he repeated his challenge for the last time: “Fight me, bitch.”

Logan sized up the big guy. He calmly pulled his sweatshirt over his head and stared right back at Malik. When the ring of JV jocks hooted for their senior captain, he indulged them and flexed his impressive biceps. They cheered and stomped on the mats.

Jaylen knew that he could not prevent the fight, but he also felt gratified that his ploy had evened the odds. At least now his buddies were not fighting five wrestlers apiece. He blew his whistle again and directed the spectators to take seats on the edge of the mat. Moving back to Logan and Malik, Jaylen attempted to set down some rules to no avail. Both jocks insisted that the match would be no holds barred, ending only in pin fall or submission. With no further ado, the would-be referee blew the starting whistle.

The young men circled each other warily. Between his serious work at the gym and his colorful tatoos, Malik’s arms looked fearsome. Below, his quads rippled in his leggings, and his ass was a monument of muscle. Logan hunched in a grappler’s stance, but Malik did not take that bait. He knew the blonde was a more skilled wrestler, and he was not planning to give up his advantage. He wasn’t here to practice, he was here to beat this punk down. He raised his fists and threw a couple practice jabs, looking for an opening.

Logan circled slowly, looking for an opening in Malik’s muscular frame. The Bartlet High team captain looked amazing in his well-worn wrestling singlet. His cut abs and sinewy, bronzed legs testified that he, too, was well-trained for this kind of encounter. Glancing quickly between Malik’s angry glare and his undisciplined defense, Logan couldn’t fail to notice his bulge. It looked like the black muscle boy had stuffed his Nike tights with a couple potatoes and a fat sausage. Logan clicked his tongue in disapproval and smirked. This was going to be fun!

Inevitably Malik became impatient first and closed the gap with a right cross. Logan danced out of the way, casually flicking his palm up between Malik’s legs for a classic nut tap. Malik grunted and doubled over, holding himself as the boys watching giggled among themselves. Enraged, Malik lashed out again, nearly taking Logan’s head off, but he exposed himself a second too long and his unguarded nads were rudely slapped a second time. He yelped and dropped to one knee. Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise as he evaluated his opponent’s reaction. Those slaps could not have been pleasant, but he knew there was not much power behind them.

“Aww, don’t tell me those big nuts are made of glass?” he mocked, causing more laughter. Malik snorted angrily and rounded on him, only to receive yet another slap to the junk that sandwiched his beefy nuts against his muscular leg. He howled and fell to the mat while Logan looked at the referee and lifted both hands in a comic shrug.

Malik was in private agony. He knew that every dude had the same weakness, but he had always suspected that his own jewels were especially sensitive to pain. Back in ninth grade, a glancing elbow during a pick up basketball game had left him nauseous for days. It was terrible luck that this blonde punk had found his weakness so fast, and even worse that he was shamelessly exploiting it. He was furious.

Malik staggered to his feet, carefully keeping a hand over his aching crotch. He circled Logan warily, throwing half-hearted punches. Finally he over-extended again—or so Logan thought. When the blonde wrestler danced in for another nut shot, Malik shifted his feet and caught him up in a bear hug. Logan’s breath whooshed out as the muscular black teen bore down, crushing his ribs in his iron grip. Malik lifted Logan up so that only his toes were touching the mat, taking away his leverage and cranking up the pressure. As Logan squirmed Malik brought up his knee sharply, crushing the teen’s balls between his rival’s firm quads and his own pubic bone.

Logan barely had the breath left to moan as his precious testicles were bashed. His face flushed and gasped for air. His arms waved futilely and his toes brushed the mat without traction. “Look at me,” Malik commanded. Staring directly into Logan’s blue eyes, he brought up his knee again, massacring his balls and making him groan in pain. With an impressive show of power and agility, Malik twisted into a suplex, crashing down on top of his opponent and crushing him into the mat.

Malik rose and stood over Logan, who was prone on the floor and panting to get his breath back. Malik scooped him up effortlessly and held him perpendicular to his body. He paused for a moment showing off his power, and stared down the boys lining the edge of the mat while Logan was helpless in his arms. The spectators were quiet now and avoided his eyes. Next Malik dropped Logan over his knee in a backbreaker, jolting his spine and bending him like a pretzel. He stood again and repeated the move, gripping Logan’s neck and knees to crank up the pressure. “You can give any time, homie,” Malik taunted confidently.

Bent as he was over the larger boy’s knee, Logan’s bulge jutted up at the top of his increasingly circular shape. His worn out practice singlet clung to his junk, with his limp dick pointing toward his navel and his round, extra large eggs exposed beneath. Malik didn't fail to notice the white boy’s impressive package. He scowled and nudged Logan’s legs further apart. Malik flexed his rock hard bicep and drove it down into Logan’s crotch as if he intended to crack those fragile eggs. Based on Logan’s strangled moans, the onlookers worried that he might have.

When Logan declined to give up, Malik dropped him unceremoniously to the mat and went for the pin. Referee Jaylen dropped to the mat and counted as Malik hooked Logan’s leg WWE-style. “One!…Two!…” But Logan was too proud to be beaten by such a sloppy pin. He kicked out and grimaced as he rolled to his knees. He breathed deeply and shook his head. With determination, Logan summoned all his concentration to ignore the sickening pain in his guts and stood up straight and proud.

Malik nodded with respect, but he could not hide his surprise. He knew how bad he had messed up Logan’s balls—he felt them flatten under his bicep. So how did he pop right back up on his feet? Did this kid actually have tougher balls than himself? Is there even such a thing as tough balls? Sounded like some bullshit…

The competitors circled again, more gingerly than before. Malik didn’t want to waste his advantage, and he pressed forward with heavy strikes. But each time Logan countered with tricky nut taps before floating out of range. Malik massaged his throbbing testicles and scowled at the audience, who continued to laugh and applaud every time Logan scored a sneaky hit. The sweat ran down Malik’s powerful chest and cut abs, and his movements became more clumsy with each glancing blow to his gonads. Soon Logan was grinning, and the sight up the blonde’s cocky dimples made him lunge with an angry punch.

Unfortunately for Malik’s revenge, he was practically moving in slow motion at this point. Logan maneuvered behind and locked his arms around Malik’s waist as if for a takedown. But instead of hosting his opponent to the mat, Logan nudged his knees apart and drove his open palm upwards into his dangling fruit. The boys in the front row could see Malik’s junk flop upwards from the impact; his lycra combat pants left no doubt about how the stud was ‘hanging.’ Malik’s mouth dropped open and he moved his hands slowly to protect his vulnerable crotch. Standing by in his ‘official’ capacity, Jaylen winced out of sympathy for his muscular buddy.

Returning to the waist lock, Logan kept one hand between Malik’s legs, owning his pouch. “When your balls hurt,” Logan announced to the crowd, “it feels better when you hold them.” Of course Logan did more than hold them. He seized the source of Malik’s manhood, rolling the fat, cream-filled balls in his palm and grinding them against each other. Malik’s mind was in a daze. He stared blankly forward at the spectators, swaying slightly on his feet. In no time the rhythmic crushing of his testicles caused his impressive tool to lengthen and harden, jutting against his sheer lycra pants. Judging by the wide eyes of the boys watching, they had never seen one so big.

From his position leaning against the back wall, Rafael knew it was over. Malik was a tough dude, but he was trapped in Logan’s grip with no way out. The fight had seeped out of him. Rafael couldn’t tell who said it, but he grimaced when he heard a voice in the crowd call out: “Finish him!”

On that cue Logan lifted Malik before taking him down and driving his fat boner into the mat. The teen yelped in anguish as he landed spread eagled. Viewed from behind, the plump mound of Malik’s manhood bulged out from between his legs. Logan stared down at it thoughtfully. Then he shrugged and stepped casually onto Malik’s most precious possessions. Malik immediately came to his senses as his gonads exploded in pain. It took Logan a minute to get his balance, since the pair of firm golf balls kept trying to roll out from under his foot. He mashed them around, causing Malik’s mouth to drop open in horror. The bigger teen’s chiseled limbs twitched erratically, and his remaining strength was zapped with almost zero effort from Logan. He rocked his hips to escape, which served only to grind his dripping cock against the mat.

Lined up along the edge of the mat, the younger wrestlers watched with wide eyes as their captain ground the black stud’s manhood to dust. They had never seen this kind of domination before, and the shamed look on Malik’s handsome face burned into their memories. Twisting his foot again, Logan felt Malik’s big gonads soften almost imperceptibly, and the proud teen tapped out just as his balls emptied their load into his tights.

Jaylen whistled the submission, and Logan immediately removed his foot, but Malik remained shuddering face down as the unwanted orgasm racked his body. His fist pounded the mat rhythmically as a creamy batch of his seed pumped out, staining his crotch and puddling on the floor. He remained motionless until Jaylen went over and gently helped him to his feet. Some of the watching wrestlers cheered and others just stared and pointed as Malik shuffled toward the back of the room with his head hung low. The once cocky jock averted his eyes and held his hands over his sticky crotch.


Rafael looked on stone faced as his friend tapped out. Malik had been his boy since the fourth grade; Rafael was furious. As soon as the fight was over, he leapt up and headed directly at Logan. The handsome twink got right up into the taller blonde’s face, which caused Logan’s teammates to intervene. After some sloppy shoving back and forth, the tussle was quickly resolved when Logan offered to make it a “best of three.” Jaylen confirmed the same rules: no-holds-barred, pin fall or submission. The Bartlet High wrestlers whooped in delight that they would get to see their captain beat down a second intruder.

Rafael pulled his polo over his head and tossed it to the side. He had not thought to bring any combat attire, so he started his opponent down wearing just a wife beater, destroyed jeans, and sneaks. The white tee contrasted with the lithe Latino’s smooth, bronze skin. His hair was neatly spiked and his dark eyes sized up the opponent who had beaten and embarrassed both of his best friends.

Logan was winded from his first fight, but he looked composed and confident. A slight sheen of sweat made his skin glow, and his well-worn singlet hugged the ridges of his abs, his rock hard quads, and the muscled mounds of his ass. Even though he was already loose, he jumped from foot to foot, making his ample package bounce proudly between his legs. He noticed Rafael’s eyes dropping low, and he laughed and playfully adjusted himself. Catching Rafael’s eye again, Logan winked and showed his dimples, which made his opponent turn crimson.

Rafael knew that he could not out-wrestle Logan, and he gave up about 20 pounds to the blonde jock. He dropped into a boxing stance and threw some test jabs. Logan shrugged and did the same. As soon as the young men squared up, it was clear who was the better boxer. Logan was a natural athlete and a capable fighter, but Rafael was a student of the ‘sweet science.’ His movements were fluid and quick, and his footwork allowed him to almost float around the blonde jock. Logan dexterously blocked his first volley, but it didn’t take long for Rafael to land jabs to his ribs and solar plexus. Logan lunged to grab the boxer to neutralize his advantage, but Rafael saw an opening and landed a combo deep into Logan’s gut followed by a stiff cross to his temple. When the wrestler raised his hands to his head to clear the cobwebs, Rafael blasted an uppercut into his unguarded ball sac, driving his knuckles deep into Logan’s soft testicles.

Rafael skipped lightly on his feet and stood back to admire his handiwork. Logan cupped both hands over his mangled organs and dropped straight down to his knees as he let out a soprano wail. He tumbled over onto his side in heap of misery. Once again the cheering spectators were silenced as their captain’s weakest point was exploited. Resuming his role as referee, Jaylen started an enthusiastic ten count. The sexy Latino shadowboxed with himself, showing off his skills and his smooth, sinewy arms.

Logan surprised everyone by rising to his feet after just a six count. He massaged the aching bulge in his singlet, but he stood straight and tall. He even managed a sheepish grin and complimented Rafael on a “nice punch.” But as soon as they squared up again Logan’s smile disappeared and he launched himself across the mat in three quick strides. Rafael barely had time to put up his defense before he was roughly tackled to the ground. Logan was not going to let boxing decide this match.

Once he was inside the Latino’s defenses, Logan was firmly in control. He powered the slimmer fighter into full nelson, then wrapped him up in a cradle. Logan provided commentary for the junior varsity spectators as Rafael was put through the wringer of every wrestling hold in the arsenal. Some boys cheered and pounded the mat as Logan dominated the would-be boxer; and others paid close attention as a chance to learn new moves. “Gentlemen, this is called a dragon headlock,” Logan explained as Logan locked Rafael’s head backwards, causing his back to bend unnaturally and immobilizing his arms. Rafael’s torso jutted forward, and his feet stumbled. “Not technically a legal move in amateur wrestling. Don’t do this,” he repeated, tightening his grip. “Never, ever.” Rafael gurgled his unwilling agreement.

Raising his eyebrows to the crowd, Logan continued the lesson. “And this is why you don’t wear jeans to wrestling practice.” He tugged on the back of Raphael’s belt, causing his ripped jeans to slide a couple inches down his narrow waist. The waistband of his bright yellow CK boxer briefs was visible above his canvas belt. A second, harder tug pulled the belt down over the bulge in those briefs. The hard metal buckle flattened his package like it was a speed bump, and Rafael moaned in pain. Pulling him back to the floor, Logan announced that he would demonstrate the grapevine maneuver. He twined his muscular legs around Rafael’s, pulling them apart as he rocked back for a pin. Unfortunately for Rafael, his belt buckle still stretched over his nuts, which were packed tightly into his boxer briefs. Each time Logan stretched and rocked for a pin, the buckle smooshed and smashed his bulge, flattening his precious package.

Rafael was nauseous from the pain in his nads, and he would have done anything just to be able to hold them. Logan could have easily pressed his shoulders to the mat, but he was having too much fun with the demonstration. He released the hold and rose to his knees, peering over the prostrate teen with a questioning look. He pretended to squint to see Rafael’s bright yellow package, which he was cradling delicately. “Now, some of our audience might be saying to themselves, ‘But that kid’s balls are only half as big as mine. Do they only hurt half as much?” Laughter rippled through the crowd, while Rafael’s groans made it clear that something was wrong with Logan’s math. Meanwhile, Rafael removed his belt and tossed it aside; it was only a liability. As he struggled to pull his jeans back up and devise a counter attack, he heard an anonymous voice from the crowd: “Finish him!” Rafael’s heart sank.

Once again Logan was happy to oblige. Turning the hurting fighter over onto his back, he hoisted his legs and spun quickly, locking on a figure four submission hold. Now both boys lay on their backs with their legs entwined, and Rafael squirmed in pain. Logan pumped his fist at the crowd, waiting for his opponent to tap out.

So assured was he of his victory, that Logan barely knew what happened when his balls exploded in pain. He gagged and looked down toward his crotch, stunned to see Rafael’s clenched fists. Despite the painful leg lock, the boxer had managed to sit up. With his legs locked in the hold, Logan’s pouch was defenseless and was just barely within reach of Rafael’s lightening-quick jabs. Logan tried to sit up as well and to disentangle their legs, but he was met with a cross to the jaw that knocked him right back down. Rafael worked with precision, bobbing up and working Logan’s nads like a speed bag. Each time the muscular wrestler tried to sit up, Rafael knocked him down on his back like a whack-a-mole.

With Logan seeing stars, Rafael went in for the kill. His knuckles dug into the teen’s tenderized testicles, and he mixed up the blows by landing jabs to his equally sensitive cock head. Logan jolted each time his thick cock was struck, but he was helpless to protect it. With a huge heave of effort, Logan sat up again, throwing a haymaker at Rafael’s head. But it never connected. With power that belied his slim frame, the Latino launched a venomous uppercut. Logan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped unconscious to the mat.

The room was hushed as Rafael disentangled their legs and rose to his feet. He winced against the pain in his knee and limped over to the ko’ed wrestler. Logan’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Rafael splayed out the defeated teen’s arms and legs. Then casting his eyes defiantly around the room, Rafael put his foot on Logan’s chest. Jaylen was on the spot to slap the mat with an authoritative “ONE….TWO…THREE!!!” Malik ran forward and caught Rafael in a huge hug that made the slimmer teen wince. Malik was all smiles, and his confident swagger was back at 110% as he gloated over their ko’ed rival. Jaylen dashed to his bag and brought back Boom’s plastic World Championship belt, which he presented formally to Rafael before raising his arm.

Until he raised Rafael’s arm, Jaylen didn’t realize how quiet it was in the practice room. The Bartlet High JV boys showed mixed reactions. Some looked pissed, some looked disappointed, and a couple finally shuffled forward to revive their captain, who was still flattened on the mat. Malik began to explain to Rafael that everything had gone according to plan, that he had softened up the blond wrestler just enough. Some of Malik’s swagger rubbed off on Jaylen, and he flashed a happy grin in the direction of the rival team.

Jaylen basked in the joy of defeating his brother’s nemesis until he felt a pointed tap on his shoulder. Turning around he was surprised to find Logan’s icy blue eyes staring down at him. He took a startled step back and peered at the taller teen. “Best of three,” Logan said hoarsely.

Jaylen didn’t immediately understand what he meant. But the Logan’s stern look left no doubt that Jaylen himself was expected to fight the promised third round. He gulped. “Best of three,” Logan repeated, limping back to the center of the mat. After a somber fist bump from Rafa and an encouraging pat on the ass from Malik, the freshman followed.

The Bartlet High JV team murmured from the sidelines. The rowdier, more aggressive guys were pumped to see yet another fight. But some of the younger, scrawnier guys sympathized with Jaylen. They recognized in him a boy their own age, matched against a bulkier, more experienced opponent. Jaylen was the clear underdog.

Jaylen’s initial intimidation eased a bit when he studied Logan more closely. The stud was covered in sweat and his blonde hair was matted to his forehead. A bruise had started to develop around his eye, and it was safe to guess that his ribs and abs would be black and blue by tomorrow. He cupped his bulge tenderly, and Jaylen did not even want to think about how much pain he was in after Rafa had wailed on his nuts like a speed bag. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad!

Jaylen was dead wrong. As soon as the match started, Logan moved with undiminished quickness. He slammed into Jaylen, spearing him with a shoulder tackle. The freshman found himself flipped and dropped, slammed and struck, so thoroughly squashed that he had no idea which way was up. In no time he was slung over Logan’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

Jaylen wriggled in protest as Logan’s hand came down across his perky butt. He couldn’t make out what Logan was saying about his “punishment,” and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as he was publicly spanked. His pride stung way worse than his ass, and he kicked his feet wildly in frustration. So it was purely by chance that the toe of Jaylen’s sneaker caught Logan right between the legs. The smile on the blonde’s face froze and he let out a comical squeak before sinking to the mat with Jaylen on top of him. The cumulative effect of his first fights, especially the crushing attacks on his most vulnerable organs, made crippling pain shoot through Logan’s guts and inner legs. He curled up into a ball and tried to remain motionless.

Jaylen disentangled himself and looked down at the incapacitated stud uncertainly. Then his eyes fell on his referee’s whistle and on Rafael’s discarded canvas belt, and he knew without a doubt what he had to do. He blew the shrill whistle and announced to the started spectators that they would have a “three minute injury time out.” The JV boys were familiar with the injury rule, and they nodded in appreciation of Jaylen’s sportsmanship. The referee was back in command.

Jaylen next retrieved the belt and beckoned a gangly freshman forward to assist. The kid crouched down and patted Logan’s shoulder, not sure how to help. “We have to keep him stabilized,” Jaylen directed with a serious look. “Hold his arms back.”

Logan protested feebly as they pried his hands away from his sore crotch. Jaylen quickly and nonchalantly looped the belt around his wrists, binding them behind his back. “Help him up, we need to determine if he can continue.” The Bartlet High freshman proved to be a good-intentioned accomplice and together they hoisted the damaged combatant to his feet.

Jaylen squinted as if analyzing the situation. He asked loudly how much injury time was remaining. Of course nobody was counting, but it made him sound legit. He turned to his helper and demanded, “Do you know how to check for a hernia?” The other boy shrugged and looked around for support. “What?!?!” Logan began, but Jaylen talked over him: “No worries,” he said with a friendly tone, “I’ll show you.”

Without delay, Jaylen cupped Logan’s nut sack through his uniform. The older teen took a sharp breath and held it, watching in wide-eyed astonishment as the fake referee prodded and examined all the lumps and ridges of his package. “I don’t think this examination is totally necessary,” he hissed, but he lost his train of thought when Jaylen rolled his right nut around between his strong fingers.

Jaylen was careful to maintain a pensive and serious look for the benefit of his audience, but inside he was cracking up. He had this stud literally by the balls, and none of his teammates were doing anything about it. Weighing Logan’s heavy, warm testicles in his hand, and feeling his shaft pulse pathetically gave Jaylen a feeling he had never experienced.

“Turn your head and cough,” he ordered. When Logan refused, he added pressure to the wrestler’s organs, causing him to gag and hunch forward. Jaylen accepted that as close enough, and he straightened him back up with a palm against his muscular chest. Jaylen looked into Logan’s blue eyes and deliberately rolled his balls in his palm, defying him to do something and owning his manhood at the same time. Logan bit his lip as his shaft twitched shamefully, but he didn’t break eye contact.

“Injury time’s up,” the younger teen announced cheerfully. He shook the hand of his freshman assistant and sent him back to his seat. Now the rest of the team could see that Logan’s hands were still bound, and that he had a hard-on tenting the front of his singlet. A couple of them looked suspicious, but the rest just seemed curious to see how this match would turn out. They didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The boys squared up again, and Logan looked determined despite his obvious handicap. He charged Jaylen and attempted to knock the slimmer boy down with a shoulder tackle. Jaylen scrambled out of the way, and on Logan’s second charge he brought up his knee and sunk it deep into Logan’s gut, driving the wind out of him. He went on the offensive, pummeling the varsity jock with gut punches, gradually breaking down Logan’s ripped abs and scoring deeper hits. After a final wobbly charge, Logan dropped to his knees and stared with bleak exhaustion toward his teammates. Malik and Raphael crowed in delight, and several of the younger wrestlers looked astonished and excited to see the senior stud taken down by an underclassman. They whispered to each other and tried to hide their grins.

Jaylen knew Logan was done. He felt a twinge of guilt for using tricks to win, but he remembered that this was the same opponent who had humiliated his brother, so he resolved not to let him off easy. Approaching from behind, Jaylen wrapped up a dragon sleeper, bending the heavier jock backward and applying a choke at the same time. Logan briefly waved around to counter the hold, but in no time his muscled arms draped uselessly at his sides. Using his free hand, Jaylen pulled the straps of Logan’s uniform tight, causing his junk to bulge out as the thin spandex rode up his stretched torso. His hard cock and fat nuts were displayed almost obscenely. The watching crowd had fallen quiet again. Jaylen waited patiently. No one was sure exactly who said it, but eventually a voice called out timidly, “Finish him!” Jaylen smirked and obliged.

Seizing Logan’s shaft in with his free hand, the teenager brought his opponent to the edge of complete domination. Jaylen had never jerked another dude’s cock before, and he was surprised how fat and hard Logan’s piece was. Jaylen certainly felt awkward doing it, but he felt a deep, satisfying rush of adrenaline at the same time. He heard Logan’s breath catch as the stretchy fabric scratched over his sensitive knob. The crowd of boys started buzzing again. They had only known Logan as a studly senior, so seeing him helplessly toyed with was engrossing. Some of them were embarrassed by the display, but others made lewd comments about their captain’s virility and mimed jerking motions with their hands.

For his part Logan’s mind was gone. The sleeper hold had cut off most of his oxygen, and the unwanted stimulation crushed his last resistance. He was vaguely aware that he was being owned in front of his younger teammates, and he struggled bravely to keep from totally humiliating himself in front of them. But it didn’t take long before he felt a deep ache in his balls and knew with certainty that his opponent would best him and force him to shoot his seed. With a last effort, he reached for Jaylen’s shoulder and tapped out.

Jaylen felt the tap and gave one last lingering tug before releasing Logan’s boner. That tug sent the varsity stud over the edge, and his body shook uncontrollably as his hot sperm shot from his penis. His orgasm flooded his singlet, staining the front with a sticky mess. Jaylen wrinkled his nose and extricated himself as Logan’s dick twitched and drooled with the last bit of his juice and his dignity. He dropped and lay flattened on the mat, starting at the ceiling, spent, milked, and submitted. By this time most of the audience were laughing and applauding, and Jaylen pumped his fist in the air to celebrate his dominance.


As much as they wanted to linger and soak up their revenge, the three Santos High teens knew better than to press their luck. It wouldn’t be long before the remaining wrestlers decided to fight for their captain, and they had had more than enough action for one day. They hurriedly grabbed their gear and made a fast exit while Logan was revived by his teammates.

The boys basked in their success for the entire bus ride home, laughing and miming impressions of Logan getting KO’d. Before they separated Malik reminded them gravely that Damon was not to hear a word about the fight. Of course they were tempted to brag, but Damon would be seriously disappointed, and it was better if he never got wind of it. With their secret cemented, the three teens went their separate ways.

A warm abundance of pride still filled Jaylen’s chest as he climbed the stairs to his family’s apartment. His mom was still at work, and Boom was curled up on the couch watching Monday Night Raw. He was too engrossed to greet his older brother, so Jaylen crossed the room and swung his back pack off his shoulder. He was halfway down the hall to his room when Boom’s voice called him back. “Hey, J?”

“What’s up lil’ man?” Jaylen replied, poking his head back into the living room.

“What’s that in your bag?” the boy asked quietly.

“Huh?” Jaylen wondered, looking down at his back pack. Hanging out from the side pocket was the strap of Boom’s belt. The Heavyweight Championship of the World. Jaylen froze and looked up guiltily.

“I couldn’t find it in Damon’s room,” the boy said simply. The brothers locked eyes for several seconds, then Jaylen backpedaled and sprinted toward his room in terror, with a furious Boom following in hot pursuit.


Anonymous said...

Fucking HOT! Wrestling stories are the best and this one is AWESOME! Any plans for future adventures?

Harry said...

Thanks man! Fight stories are my fave also, so I'm glad you liked this one. I don't have a specific follow up planned yet, but I'm definitely writing more in the new year!

Mickey said...

This was a most wonderful story. I absolutely adore Logan being dominated by people he's sure could never beat him. And Logan getting up after all the nutshots just makes it much more better. <333

Harry said...

Mickey, thanks for the good word, man. I agree with you, over-confident guys make the best targets!