A Wrestler’s Tale: Episode 2
By Dark J

"Sore" wouldn't begin to describe how I felt that next morning. It wasn't a surprise coming off my first match in eight years, but Paris, who was greener than the grass at Yankee Stadium, really beat me up. While the idea of being the so-called "veteran wrestler who brings along the youngsters," as John O'Reilly Jr. put it, wasn't appealing to begin with, I was hating it even more, as just getting out of bed seemed like an incredible physical feat.

"Get your ass out of bed," I told myself. I had to take the kids to school. I felt guilty enough wrestling again, never mind letting it get in the way of my responsibilities. I got out of bed like I was seventy-five years old, muscles aching, as a painful reminder of my eight year absence from the ring. The other reminder of my not-so-triumphant return to the ring was a major wedgie! One of the great mysteries of life was how I could go to bed with my panties where they should be (covering my butt!), and wake up eight hours later with said panties buried in my crack! Not just riding my crack...BURIED!! Really not the ideal situation, particularly when you have kids who will just barge into your bedroom. Luckily, Julia and Jason, my two beautiful children, thought it was funny that "mom's big butt is showing!", and I think I facilitated their use of the word "wedgie".  Mother of the year!

While getting out of bed wasn't easy, I felt a little better once I was on my feet and moving around. Perhaps I wasn't as out-of-shape as I thought! I also felt better when I picked my white cotton panties out of my butt! After a quick shower, I got the kids up, gave them breakfast, and drove them to school. Next stop was the Tri-State Wrestling offices, conveniently located inside the TSW Arena. I wanted to make myself known around there...if I was going to wrestle again, I needed to give it a full commitment.

As I walked into the arena, there she was -- the champion Phoebe Flare. I'll admit it, Phoebe was a great choice to have on top (top star, main-event, champion). She was beautiful, with long, blonde hair and a great body, she could work (wrestle), and she was also good on the microphone. While there were a lot of pretenders and wannabes in TSW right now, Phoebe, while young, was the real deal. She was dating the boss, but she earned her spot. I really, really hoped to wrestle her someday!

"Ally!" she said, as we crossed paths in a corridor leading to the offices.
"It's great to meet you, Phoebe!" I answered, extending my hand.
"Likewise," she said. "I was such a huge fan of yours when I was a girl!"

Ouch! I'm only twenty-eight years old and I already have fans who were kids, and are now adults? Well, Phoebe was young, so I guess she was a girl when I was the young hotshot.

"I saw your match the other night," she said. "You looked good."
"Thanks! It was a little rough...I was kind of rusty and Paris is a bit inexperienced (understatement!), but we did okay."
"Yeah, definitely. Those wedgies looked at tad uncomfortable..."
"They were...she was supposed to give me the one wedgie in the ring, but she was a bit reckless."

Why did she bring up the wedgies? Ugh!

"It was entertaining," Phoebe continued. "We were all watching on the monitor in the back (the locker room), and everyone was laughing."
"It...was funny," I said, trying to be a good sport.
"Well, to be honest, Ally, we were already laughing before she started giving you wedgies. Your leotard..."
"What about it?"

I was getting upset now!

"Nothing...it was that old school...high-cut style, and it was REALLY riding up your butt..."
"It's athletic apparel, Phoebe. Athletes in track and field and gymnastics get wedgies. It happens! At least I look like an athlete...not some club dancer or...whore."

Yep, I was pissed, in case you couldn't already tell!

"Wow, Ally, calm down! Don't get your panties in a bunch. Well, they probably are in a bunch...you're a little big in the rear, girlfriend."
"If you're trying to piss me off so I'll go away, Phoebe, you can forget it! Your boyfriend hired me! The fans remembered me!"

What happened next was unbelievable! Phoebe shoved me against the wall and held me there.

"I'm the main event here, bitch," she said. "You're old news! The crowd gave you some sympathy...a little respect, but they PAY to see me!"

My mind was racing at this point. I was so mad! I wanted to kick Phoebe's ass, and I'm pretty sure I could have. I was bigger than her, and a trained wrestler. As I said, Phoebe was a good worker (wrestler), but she came from a fitness model background, and I knew she wasn't all that tough. But common sense took over. How would it look if I beat-up the company's champion and top star? O'Reilly thought enough of me to rehire me, but he obviously didn't value me all that much having Paris kick my butt. I had to be careful, so I just pushed Phoebe away, and attempted to walk away.

"Oh, don't be like that," she said following me, then she had the nerve to give me a wedgie! I felt her fingernails go down the back of my jeans, she gripped my panties, and she gave them a tug!

"Ouch!" I screamed, as I felt the pink, satin panties rip into my butt crack. Of course, the physical pain was dwarfed by the humiliation I felt! "You do have a big ass," she said, giving me a quick spanking for good measure.

Phoebe finally let go of my panties, and within seconds John O'Reilly Jr. came walking out of his office. That couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Is everything all right?" asked O'Reilly. Neither of us said anything, and Phoebe walked off to wherever she was originally going (before she decided to torment me!). "Come into my office, Ally," John said. I let him walk ahead so I could tuck my panties back into my jeans. My panties were still in major wedgie-mode -- I really couldn't fix them under my jeans, which were also riding my crack. I have a butt! Sorry! (damn Phoebe!)

"We want to use you again on this week's taping," said John, sitting behind his desk. "I liked what you did with Paris."
"Thanks!" I said. "I can do a lot better! Just need the work."
"And we'll give it to you. The crowd was pretty hot for you."
"Yeah, that was cool! I was worried that they wouldn't remember me."
"Well, they certainly remembered you," John said smiling. "It was a show of respect for what you've done in the PAST, but like any industry, we have to stay cutting edge, and move forward."

My heart sank when he said that. The crowd was HOT for me, damn it! I shouldn't have been surprised, he essentially said the same when we first met, but I thought, or at least hoped, that the crowd reaction before and after my match with Paris would change his mind.

"Don't get me wrong, Ally," he continued. "You can play a valuable role here teaching the newer girls...and you'll make some decent money from the DVD sales and downloads. Your match with Paris is already available for download, and we got a lot of buys. Did you see it?"
"No," I answered.
"Here," said John, turning his computer's monitor so I could see it.

I was not happy! The featured picture for the match was a close-up of my butt as Paris was giving me a wedgie! And underneath there were a bunch of messages from people who bought the download, and they were all rude! Even the people who thought I was "hot" or "sexy" had to say it in a dirty way. Creeps!

"Mr. O'Reilly, could you at least change that picture?" I asked. "It's a bit much, you know?"
"Sorry, Ally, it's a big seller and we're pretty sure that the picture helped. Don't take it as an insult. You're a beautiful, sexy woman. They love the one-piece leotard with the high legs. I don't think you're marketable as a top wrestler anymore, but for the perverts...um...online customers, you're gold!"

Now, I was REALLY unhappy! I was far from a prude...I knew my leotards were sexy (even with the athletic-style) and I also knew I attracted that element of fan. With that said, it was never as blatant as this -- my ASS selling a video -- and I also had a lot of real fans who respected my work, including young girls looking for a kick-ass, female role model. And now I had kids!

"You look upset?" asked John. "You'll definitely like that check when it arrives in your mailbox."
"Okay," I answered. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I didn't want to burn any bridges. I needed the work and I really wanted to wrestle again. I did feel cheap and humiliated, though, and I hated that!
"Good!" he said. "Your next match is against another rookie - Living Dead Girl. Think female Undertaker. She's big and really green, so we hope that you can carry her to a good match. We have high hopes for the gimmick (character a wrestler plays), and see her as a potential opponent for Phoebe. We want her to dominate you, and be sure to wear one of those skimpy leotards -- a light color preferably because she'll be in black.

I drove home, feeling really awful about what had transpired that morning. Sure, I had another match, and a nice check was coming my way, but the incident with Phoebe and the download with that picture of my practically naked butt were making me ill. And O'Reilly's attitude towards me...just creepy. Not to mention that my panties were still wedged up my ass! Damn you, Phoebe!

I got home and checked my email -- no job offers, of course, but I had an email from someone wanting to schedule a private wrestling session with me. I had been thinking about stopping the private sessions, but I wasn't on firm ground with TSW, to put it mildly, and I really needed the money. The bills kept coming and Christmas wasn't that far away. I really wanted to give Julia and Jason a regular Christmas (as if I was still fully-employed). I couldn't count on their father, of course. It was all up to me!

I read the email. It was from a woman! Very rare, but certainly welcome -- I didn't worry about my safety as much with female clients, they usually smelled better, and even if they "liked girls", I didn't mind it as much when they had their hands all over me. Most of the guys were actually nice, but it could get a little creepy! Speaking of nice guys, I wondered what happened to Zachary? I was hoping he'd call me. I kind of liked him.

Anyway, the new client's name was Zoey, and she didn't have any strange requests. She was upfront that she was a lesbian, and that wrestling women was turn-on for her. Like Zach, she was a fan from my early days as "Sporty Ally". The night she wanted to wrestle didn't conflict with the next TSW taping. I just had to make sure that Emily, my best friend, could take care of the kids. And make up another excuse as to where I'd be that night!

********************

I dropped the kids off at Emily's, then proceeded to Zoey's house. She was about twenty minutes away, so I didn't have far to drive. I was feeling better -- as promised, my check from TSW arrived that afternoon, and it was a nice payoff. This session with Zoey would be another good payday, and I had my match with Living Dead Girl coming up. The incident with Phoebe was still bothering, along with O'Reilly's "marketing plan" for me, but it was the world of professional wrestling -- not the most progressive business in the world, to say the least!

I arrived at Zoey's house. It was nice and clean outside, a good sign, and there were a couple of nice cars in the driveway. It's just good to see these things because that means she has money. I get the check up front, but that doesn't necessarily mean that said check is going to clear. I learned that the hard way a couple of times! Interesting that there were two cars. I assumed she lived by herself.

Zoey answered the door with a big smile. She was really cute -- medium length hair colored pink, on the short side with a petite body, and a nose ring. She had that punk rock-girl look with the Doc Marten's boots, a Ramones' t-shirt, and baggy jeans.

I was wearing a light blue track suit over a pink leotard and black wrestling boots. She looked a bit disappointed at first, but then I took off the track suit and she was happy!

"Gosh, you're even hotter in person," she said.
"Awww...thanks, Zoey!" I smiled, adjusting the back of my leotard. I hadn't worn this leotard in eight years, and my butt was just devouring the poor thing!
"Really!" she continued enthusiastically. "You're like a younger Jennifer Connelly, with a much better body...so curvy!"
"That's really nice! I get Jennifer Connelly a lot, actually...not that I'm complaining! I don't know about having a better body, but I'm glad you think so. I just want to look strong and athletic, and the curves are sexy. I hate that Hollywood-thin look."
"Same here, Ally. I wish I was built like you. I really do eat, but I stay so thin. Maybe you could give me some tips? Some workouts?"
"Sure!" I said. "Let's wrestle now -- that's what you're paying for -- and you can email me anytime with fitness questions."

I grabbed Zoey, took her down to the ground, and applied a leg scissors. The leg scissors was always a hit with clients -- it didn't hurt (unless I really squeezed), and they enjoyed being trapped between my thighs!

I released the hold after a couple of minutes, and we both got back to our feet. She giggled, as it was fairly obvious that I was fixing my leotard again. "Wedgie?" she asked. "Of course," I laughed. "You're a fan...you should know that by now!"

I let Zoey get behind me. She put her arms around my waist, and took me to the ground. I was impressed! She was strong for her size. She laid across my back, holding me down on the ground. "Gosh, your ass is fantastic!" she said, and she certainly had a good vantage point as my butt was right there, just to the side of where she was lying. And even this simple takedown, with her arms pressed against my body, caused my leotard to ride up in between my cheeks again. It was one of those accidental wedgies, but my pink Adidas leotard was high and tight up my butt, nevertheless!

"Sorry about the wedgie, Ally," Zoey said in her cute, little voice.
"No problem," I giggled. "It's very rare that I get an apology when I'm wedgied, so you're already cool in my book!"

I was having fun with Zoey. I not "into" women, but she was cute and playful, and I was enjoying that. She had her hands on my ass quite a bit, but in a gentle sort of way. After a few more minutes of wrestling, I rolled over on my back, and pushed her off.

We stood back up, and again I had to adjust my leotard -- the back was like a thong and UNCOMFORTABLE, and the front was also riding up into my crotch. Zoey, who enjoyed teasing me apparently, laughed and said, "cameltoe!" I fixed the lower front and back of my leotard, but I wasn't done, as my left boob was coming out! I tucked it back in and adjusted my straps. I think Zoey enjoyed my wardrobe malfunctions more than the wrestling!

"Are you into humiliation, Ally?" she asked.
"Not really," I answered. "I've been humiliated quite a few times -- just comes with the territory as a pro wrestler -- but I don't enjoy it...not at all. Why? Do you want to spank me or something?"
"No, not at all," said Zoey. "I mean, I would like to spank you, but that's not what I'm talking about! I like being humiliated, and I've always had this fantasy scenario involving you."
"Oh! Just don't tell me that you want me to take your temperature...well...you know where...or diaper you after you...well..."
"No! None of that! Have guys asked you to do those things?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, gross!
"Yeah. NO THANK YOU!"
"Anyway, Ally, I was wondering if you'd sit on my face?"
"Like...with my butt?"
"Yeah! How else do you sit, silly? I just find it so degrading...humiliating...someone's ass on your face!"
"All right...I guess."
"Cool! I'll lie down."

This was weird! I had done the "stinky face" in wrestling a couple of times where my opponent was down in the corner, and I humiliated her by rubbing my ass in her face. But actually sitting down on someone's face? I started feeling really self-conscious too...I showered before I left, and it wasn't like we were having a grueling wrestling match, but was I...you know..."fresh" down there?  I guess we'd find out!

I began to squat down on Zoey, feeling my cheeks seperate and my leotard ride-up. "Are you sure, Zoey?" I asked. "Yes!" she said. "Please!"

"All right," I said, lowering my ass until my weight was on Zoey's face. I felt her fingers on my butt cheeks, then she slid them up the high cut leg-holes of my leotard, making sure I had a giant wedgie. "Are you okay down there?" I asked. I was concerned. My ass was over her mouth and I could feel her nose in between my cheeks. I have A LOT of BUTT, and I was afraid that I'd suffocate her!   

"I'm fine!" Zoey said, in a somewhat muffled voice. "Now, yell at me. Tell me I deserve this!"
"What?" I asked, totally confused.
"You know...," she said, getting a little impatient. "Roleplay! Haven't you ever done something like this?"
"Oh! Okay! You've been a bad girl, Zoey...and...and...um." I didn't know what else to say!
"And you deserve my big, smelly ass in your face!" Zoey barked, feeding me my next line.
"Wait a minute, my butt smells?!"
"No!" yelled Zoey, getting really annoyed at that point. "It just sounds good...and humiliating!"
"All right! All right! You deserve to have my big...um...smelly ass in your face, Zoey!!"
"Sweaty too!"
"My ass is sweaty?"
"NO!! It just sounds good! You're hopeless, Ally! Just rub your butt in my face a little more, and we'll be done."

Maybe taking temperatures and diapers weren't so bad??

Zoey decided she'd had enough, and pushed me off, grabbing two big handfuls of cheek in the process. Ouch!! That was no accident!

"That was fun, Ally, and you were great...even though I sounded a little irritated. How cool was that? My favorite, sexiest wrestler of all-time, with her big booty sitting on MY face!"
"Um...yeah," I said. "If I ever make the wrestling hall of fame, I'll be sure to tell this story during my induction speech!"
"Funny!" Zoey said, "And you look so fucking hot with that wedgie!"

And to show her enthusiasm, Zoey grabbed the back of my leotard and pulled it halfway up my back! Always the consummate performer, I danced around flailing my arms, as she applied the wedgie.

"Gosh, I could watch your butt jiggle all day, Ally!"

Zoey finally let go of my leotard, then gave me a hug. She was a little weird, but a sweet girl. At least that's what I thought...

She let go of me, and as I went to pick my wedgie, somebody grabbed me from behind! Somebody who was a lot bigger and stronger than Zoey. The person had me in a reverse bearhug and lifted me up off the ground! That other car! I knew someone else was there! I screamed as I desperately tried to escape. This was my worst nightmare realized! I always knew one of those private wrestling sessions would get me in trouble! All I could think about was that I was going to die that night, and my kids...I love my kids...they had a worthless father, and their mother was going to die like this?? 

To be continued

Episode 2 / PART 2

"Not so tough when you're in a real fight, sweet cheeks?"

That's what this person, a woman, said as she held me in a reverse bearhug, my feet a good two feet off the ground. She certainly didn't have the most feminine voice that you'll ever hear, but I knew it was a woman. And her breath stunk of alcohol. Gross!

"Just a fake wrestler, huh?" she continued, squeezing me tight.

One thing I quickly realized about being a "fake wrestler" -- who the hell would wear an outfit like this to a fight? My leotard went up my butt again, and as she shook me, it felt like my boobs were about to fall out.

I looked at Zoey, but she just stood there. She looked shocked, like she had no idea that this was going to happen. One thing became obvious, though -- she wasn't going to help me. Was she scared? I didn't know, but I knew I was own my on!

I was frightened...panicked, but when the initial shock wore off, I knew what I had to do. After all, I was far from just some "fake wrestler", like a lot of the other girls. I was kind of  bad-ass in my own right, and more importantly, I was fighting for Julia and Jason!

Instead of just trying to break her grip, which had already proven unsuccessful, I hit her with an elbow that connected with the side of her head. One more elbow and I was free, but I wasn't finished, as I got behind her, pulled her left arm behind her back, and drove her to the ground. Her face hit the floor hard.
"Stay back!" I yelled at Zoey, as I checked on my attacker. I was worried that I might have killed her -- I was scared, and with her size, I wasn't taking any chances. She was unconscious, but still breathing. I certainly didn't trust Zoey at that point, and for all I knew she was about to attack me.

"I'm so sorry, Ally!" said Zoey, putting her hand on my shoulder. I gave her a look that basically said, "get that hand the fuck off me." "She's my girlfriend," she said, tears falling down her pale cheeks. "She drinks...a lot...and she just loses control...gets violent. I thought she was going out tonight. I didn't even know she was here...honestly! She lives here...with me. She...Nicole is her name...is also a big fan. She just drinks, and then there's trouble."

"She needs some help," I said. "Does she hit you?"
"No...no," said Zoey, putting her head down afterwards.
"Are you sure?" I asked. I knew she was lying.
"Well...sometimes."
"You can't let that happen, Zoey. It's not right! And she's a brute." Nicole was 5'8", maybe 5'9", and had to weigh close to 200 lbs. She had that classic butch lesbian look -- short, spiked hair, brown, and dressed sort-of-manly, with baggy jeans and a plain, white t-shirt. "You're going to get hurt! Does she support you? Is there anything keeping you here? With her?"
"No," said Zoey sobbing. "I support her. This is my house. I own Midtown Music Experience..."
"Oh, I've been in your store! I love Pearl Jam...and the Pumpkins, of course...I'm always looking for rare stuff, and you have an incredible selection."
"Wow! Sporty Ally has been in my store! I wish I knew!"
"Yeah, I know it sounds silly, but I am kind of local celebrity, so I wear baseball hats and sunglasses so people don't recognize me."
"I understand. It would be hard to know it's you like that...and not in your awesome leotards, of course!"
"Back on topic, Zoey. This isn't good. Will Nicole get some help, at least?"
"She's been in rehab a couple of times, but it didn't help."
"You can't live like this."
"I know...l know."
"Listen, Zoey...I have to go. I have to pick my kids up and get them to bed. They have school tomorrow. Promise that you'll think about what I said?"
"I will."
"Here's my cell number...call me. I'll help you. Whatever you need."
"Gosh...thanks, Ally. I don't know what to say. Um...maybe you should get dressed before you leave?"
"Oooops! Thanks!"

I went to put my track suit back on, but first I had to fix my severely-wedged leotard!

"Can I help you with that wedgie, Ally?" Zoey asked playfully.
"I'm sure you'd love to, but your hour is up!" I laughed.
With my leotard back in place, and my track suit back on, I was ready to go.

"Thanks again, Ally," said Zoey, giving me a hug. "I'm so sorry! I feel terrible."
"I'm fine, Zoey. Just do something about Nicole...that will make me feel better. And give me a call. Let me know what's happening."

********************

A few days passed, and I hadn't heard from Zoey. I didn't know what to do, but I had my hands full with the kids, and I was wrestling that night! Again, I was feeling guilty, leaving the kids with Em, and lying about what I was doing. I was going to have to tell them...eventually.

I arrived at the arena that night feeling good. Sure, I wasn't happy that I was going to be squashed (lose decisively) again, and everything that went down with Phoebe and O'Reilly was still on my mind, but there was nothing like that excitement of a show! That rush of performing, and the fans responding -- the reception I received at the last show was a tremendous ego-boost -- something I really needed then and now.

I was early and my opponent, TSW's female version of the Undertaker, Living Dead Girl, hadn't arrived yet. I began stretching, and of course, my white, high-cut leotard was riding up my butt. "Looking good!" said a voice from behind, as I was still bent over, touching my toes. It was the agent (a liaison between management and the wrestlers who helps plan matches, promos, etc.) who commented on my wedgie the last time! His name was Dave Finley, a retired wrestler, and all-around creep!

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, pulling the leotard back around my cheeks...sort of (the ass to leotard back ratio was definitely in favor of my ass!). "Hope you're ready for tonight," he said. "You're in the main event!"

"Really?!" I said. I couldn't believe it. Maybe O'Reilly changed his mind, and we were going to have a competitive match? After all, it was the MAIN EVENT! "Don't get too excited, Wedgie Woman," Dave said. Great! My old nickname was back! "You're still getting your big butt kicked...and kicked BADLY! It's just that Johnny has huge plans for Dead Girl so he wants her debut to be a big deal. The match will still be short, which is too bad because you look downright sexy in that little leotard, sweet cheeks."

Apparently the TSW handbook on sexual harassment hadn't been handed out yet!

"Well, Dave, maybe you can make your wrestling comeback as the 'Dirty Old Man'?" I shot back. "Come to the ring in a trench coat? You may want to drop fifty...no, maybe seventy-five pounds so you look good in tights, SWEET CHEEKS."

"Ally, I remember when you were a sweet, quiet girl who listened."
I let Dave get the last word in, and thankfully he left. What an asshole! I missed the wrestling business. A lot of the people in it? No way!

I had my full gear on -- the white Adidas leotard with black stripes down the sides, white elbow and knee pads, and white boots with a black "S.A." on the sides. I had my long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. I was ready for action, or to take my beating, more accurately.

After some time passed, Living Dead Girl arrived in full gear so we could plan our match. She was tall! I'm 5'9" and she towered over me! She had long, black hair, very white skin (no tanning booth for this girl!), a black top that revealed her arms (and a couple of tattoos), and long black tights and boots. I almost looked naked next to her, with my high-cut, cheeky leotard!

She was actually kind of cool. She was another one of my fans who just got into the business, and she was willing to listen. I just hoped that would continue in the ring, as Paris was okay during the pre-match talk, but kind of turned on me once we hit the ring. And the best thing was that Living Dead Girl didn't ask to give me a wedgie!

We planned a few spots (a move or moves in a match), and seemed to be on the same page. She even felt bad beating me so easily, but I was going to do what I was asked. We talked for a little while longer, then good old...and I mean OLD...Dave came back.

"You gals are on in about forty minutes," he said. "Ally, no intro for you. We want you in the ring jobber-style. Orders from Johnny."

Ouch! That meant that I wouldn't get my intro music, "Cherub Rock" by Smashing Pumpkins, and my pop (cheers from the fans) would probably be small...at least a lot smaller than my return match. The music creates a buzz, and that quiet walk down to the ring basically says that you're not important...a jobber (a wrestler, whose sole purpose is to lose and make the opponent look strong). Somebody didn't like the reception I got last week, and was doing everything they could to make sure it didn't happen again! I tried not to look upset, but...

"Oh...poor Ally!" mocked Dave. "Don't worry...the fans were just being nice to ya last week. They wouldn't give two shits about you this week, even if you had your crappy song, won the title, and did a striptease afterwards! Haha! Loser!"

With that pleasant thought, Dave left, and not a moment too soon. I'm not sure that I could beat him up, but boy did I want to kick him in the family jewels!! Living Dead Girl was also totally disgusted by him. At least someone around that crazy place was nice, and of course she was about to kick my ass! Or at least LOOK LIKE she was kicking my ass, I hoped!

********************   

I was in the ring, ready for action. I got a decent pop when I came out, but without the music it just wasn't as good. It was only my second show back, so I'm sure some fans didn't even know it was me. You're kind of identified by your music. I stood in the ring looking scared, as I was told to, and the arena went dark, with just a spotlight on the entrance (where the wrestler enters the arena, and walks down to the ring).

The bell tolled, the entrance got smoky, and out came Living Dead Girl. She walked slow and deliberately like The Undertaker, with a funeral dirge playing behind her. She looked kind of cool, but she was no Undertaker! One of my all-time wrestling heroes! Dead Girl did the slow climb into the ring, the bell rang, and we locked up.

She threw me down to the mat like a rag doll. Down on one knee, I looked up at her like I had never seen anything so powerful. I got back up and started punching her, but she no-sold (acted as if the punches didn't hurt) my blows, grabbed me around the neck, and tossed me into the corner of the ring. She was fairly strong, and her punches were good. They looked real, from what I could tell, and unlike Paris, she wasn't really hurting me. Yay! The crowd began booing her and chanting my name. Double yay!

Next, she threw me against the ropes, then hit me with a boot to the head as I bounced back. Again, it looked good and she wasn't killing me! No wedgies, either! Well, not YET, anyway.

She pulled me up by the hair, put her arms around my waist, and lifted me up into a bearhug. As her arms went up my back, my leotard just SHOT up my ass! The fans were still cheering for a classic Sporty Ally comeback, but there was also a noticeable "WEDGIE" chant from the crowd. And what a wedgie it was! She kept tightening her grip on the bearhug, and every time she did that my leotard pulled harder and harder on my butt crack! Forget my butt, it was making its way up my back. Ouch!

I screamed, and yelled "No!", and some of that was real. The bearhug itself didn't really hurt, but what she was doing to my ass was another story!

She finally released me, and I fell to the mat as if she had sapped all my strength, and I couldn't move anymore, never mind wrestle. I left my wedgie in -- it wouldn't have looked good if I was just devastated by her awesome power, but still worried about picking my butt!

The ref, who came over to check on me, put a hand right on my bare butt! Did TSW hire any good, respectful people?! Other than me, of course!

Anyway, I began stirring, as much to stop the butt-fondling as get to the match moving again! The crowd responded, cheering my name and hoping for a big comeback! What did they get? I stumbled to my feet, picked the wedgie (that felt good!), and got clotheslined to the mat by my dominant opponent.

Again, she pulled me up by the hair (my ponytail was a distant memory) and scooped me up for a bodyslam. Now, SHE had her hand all over my ass, but at least it was supposed to be there! I could feel my leotard invading my crack, as her hand squeezed my cheeks. While it seemed like I was destined for another major butt-wedgie, she lifted me over her head, pulling the back of the leotard out of my crack, and high in the air. This time, the wedgie was as frontal, but my ass was still exposed as she pulled up on the white spandex that was supposed to be clinging to my backside!

She held me up for a good thirty seconds, then slammed me back down to the mat. That one hurt, as I was rather high up in that press slam. I immediately adjusted the front of the leotard as my...you know what...was showing!

The fans stopped cheering for me, as it was painfully obvious that I was no match for the Living Dead Girl. We were about to go to the finish, which was a chokeslam. It's a move where one wrestler grabs the other around the neck, lifts the wrestler high in the air, and slams them, back-first, to the mat. The lifting part is done by the wrestler pushing up on the victim's back, and the victim jumping (without making it look obvious) to help get their body off the ground, and make the move look good.

I stumbled to my feet, and she quickly put her hand around my neck. I acted scared and begged for her not to do it, but she was primed to finish me off. We discussed the chokeslam beforehand, of course, and she promised that she wouldn't grab the back of my leotard when she went to lift me up. The plan was for her to just put her hand on my back, and as I left my feet, move it down to my hip then thigh. Sounded good, right?

She had the one hand on my neck, and I felt the other one on my back. So far, so good, but then I felt her GRIP my leotard, and it already began creeping up my butt. "Oh shit!" I thought, as I knew what was coming next. I held up my end (no pun intended!) jumping up as she began lifting me, but in what seemed like a millisecond, my leotard went right up my ass crack!! I was high in the air, my "Sporty Ally Special" pulled at least halfway up my back, and my big butt on display for everyone to see! John O'Reilly had his picture for the video download, as I was helpless in the newly coined "Wedgie-slam"! I was horrified and totally embarrassed -- it wasn't my first humiliating wedgie, of course, but it felt like the worst -- figuratively and literally! Everything had gone wrong for me -- Phoebe treating me like a joke, John O'Reilly and his softcore porn, and that creepy, sleazy old man Dave totally disrespecting me. Then, there I was, THE WORST WEDGIE EVER, my ass exposed for the world to see (damn internet!), my "womanhood" also on display, and in the business I loved the most and I was pretty damn good at, I was a total loser!

Even the crowd seemed to turn on me as they were laughing, cheering, and the "WEDGIE!" chant was back in full force! "Please...just end this!" I thought. I was crying...I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and I swore that I was done with wrestling. It just wasn't worth it!

I finally got my wish as Living Dead Girl slammed me down to the mat, and pinned me for the victory. As much as I just wanted to forget wrestling, my dedication to being professional took over, and I just laid there, leaving my leotard in all the wrong places. You were supposed to lie still after a pin, and I did just that. Dead Girl noticed that my vagina lips were showing, and quickly rolled me on to my belly.

Unfortunately, my humiliation was far from over! As I was lying there, my wedgied ass on display for everyone to see, Dead Girl leaned down and whispered into my ear. "Ally, we have one more thing to do," she said. "I don't think they told you, but I have to pick you up, carry you down to that grave on the side of the stage, and bury you. It's part of my gimmick."

God, I saw that "grave" as I was coming through the entrance. I should have known that my "burial" was coming, but they didn't even have the decency to tell me! Assholes! Leave it to the poor rookie wrestler break the news. Gutless! Just gutless!

I really wanted to just roll out of the ring, leave the arena, and never come back, but again I felt the need to be professional. I continued lying there, as Dead Girl rolled me to the ring apron, climbed out of the ring, and picked up my "lifeless" body so she could bury me. I was really hoping that she'd just cradle my body, and carry me that way, but instead she put me over her shoulder, my big, practically-naked butt high in the air. Not the most flattering position...especially with a MASSIVE wedgie!

We began the long walk up the aisle. Actually, it was a short walk, but it sure felt like it was long! The crowd was booing, but I could hear people laughing at me, and saying rude things. The aisle was relatively narrow (compared to a WWE show), and a few jerks took the opportunity to grab my ass and spank me, as Dead Girl carried me over her shoulder. One guy even grabbed my leotard, reinforcing my already ridiculous wedgie, and almost knocking us over. Dead Girl lost her balance, but didn't fall, thankfully!

We finally made it to the gravesite, which was just a huge pile of dirt inside an opening on the side of the stage. There was no actual coffin, which was fine with me. The whole thing was disturbing enough! She dropped me in the hole, and shoveled a little dirt on me for effect. It was so disgusting and humiliating! My white leotard was all dirty, I could barely see, and my leotard was joined by some dirt up my butt! I did finally pick my wedgie, as the crowd could no longer see me. I began crying again. I had never felt so pathetic!

Living Dead Girl stood over my grave for another minute or two, the lights went out, and a spotlight focused on her. The lights came back on, she left, and the show was finally over. Well, at least that was the plan.

I couldn't wait to get out of that dirty, disgusting hole, but the referee told me to wait until all of the fans had left. Like anyone actually believed I was dead, but they wanted to protect Dead Girl's gimmick, of course. Then it happened -- the fans began chanting "We want Ally!" They weren't going to leave until they saw me again!

The chant went on for a few more minutes, so John O'Reilly finally came out. He got on a microphone, and said, "Thank you for coming, but the show is over! Look forward to seeing you next time!" The fans totally ignored him, and continued chanting, "We want Ally!" They even switched up the chant with one side of the arena chanting "Sporty!", and the other following with "Ally!"

I could hear O'Reilly swearing off-mic, and telling Dave, who also came out, that they had to get the fans out of the building. "I know, boss," said Dave. "But we only have a couple of security guys," he continued. "They can't possibly get all of these people out of here." "Fuck!" said O'Reilly, as the cheers got louder and louder. He looked down at me with a totally disgusted look on his face. "Get out of there so these losers will shut up and leave," he barked at me. "I guess they just have to see your fat ass again."

"Be a gentleman?" I said to Dave, as I held my hand up. He pulled me out of the hole, and the crowd erupted! It felt sooooo good! We were standing on what was a dirt hill, so I gave Dave a light push, and fell! He was covered in dirt! That felt almost as good as the cheers!

The fans continued chanting my name, and I waved to them and threw kisses. It was unbelievable! Just as special as the last time, and I really, really needed it! I took the mic from O'Reilly, thanked the fans for coming, and told them that I'd see them next time...hopefully. I was covered in dirt, sweaty, and my hair was an absolute mess, but I couldn't have been happier! Don't get me wrong, what the company did to me was still upsetting, but the real people who count -- the fans -- still loved me!

The building finally emptied, and O'Reilly and Dave could barely look at me, as they just walked away, swearing under their breath.

********************

After a hot shower and a change of clothes (that leotard was heading for retirement!), I left the arena feeling a lot better. Was that my last night with TSW? I wasn't sure if  I even wanted to work for them again, and I also wasn't sure if I'd have a choice, but at least I made my point -- the fans still cared about me!

As I approached my car, I got a great surprise! It was Zachary, who was parked just a few cars away from mine!

"Ally!" he said. "I was hoping I'd see you!"
"Zach!" I responded. "You were at the show?"
"Yep. I've been to both shows. I wouldn't have missed your comeback for anything!"
"You should have called me," I said, quickly realizing that I sounded desperate. "I mean, I would have gotten you tickets to the shows...you know...for free."
"Thanks!" he said with a huge smile. "I wanted to call you, but I felt weird. The "Creepy Wrestling Fan Guy"...I'm sure you get a lot of those..."
"Well, yeah," I laughed. "But you didn't strike me as one of THOSE guys. You're a sweety!"
"Awesome!" he said.
"My matches weren't all that good, but you must have enjoyed the wedgies, at least?"

Zach, slightly embarrassed, giggled, but before he could say anything my phone beeped. I had a text from Zoey that just said "HELP!"

"I'm sorry, Zach!" I said nervously. "I really have to go, but call me! I mean it!"

I jumped into my car and sped off to Zoey's...

End of Episode 2