by AJ Gray
Rifling through a rack containing the contestant’s costumes, she stopped at an all in one vest and shorts combo, just like the kind a wrestler wears. A sticker stuck to it spelt Jack. This was the one. She held it up to the light, the red lycra wouldn’t cover much even as it was, but smiling devilishly, Rachael began making one or two adjustments.
The next day the arena was packed to capacity with screaming fans, excited to get a glimpse of their heroes. Backstage Jack looked at himself in a full-length mirror. He liked what he saw, and wasn’t in the least bit apprehensive in the thin lycra that barely concealed him. His body was tanned and buff, and the outfit showed it off well. As he made his way into the arena surrounded by a host of bubbly lovelies and hangers on, he was calm and confident.
Stood in the tunnel that led out into the arena was Rachael, she’d lost her puppy fat over the years and as Jack passed her, he didn’t recognise her. She ran her eyes over his athletic tanned body, lingered on his firm ass, remembered that day all those years ago.
The arena erupted into applause on his entrance. Rachael walked out and inconspicuously stood on the sideline near the tunnel. She watched as Jack stretched and lunged, soaked up the acclaim of the crowd. By the end of today Jack will have some idea what it felt all those years ago, he won’t know what hit him, she thought vengefully.
The first event up was Powerball. This involved the contestants taking balls from a crate at opposing ends and placing them in various hoops arranged over the court. The gladiator’s job was to stop them. Jack looked at the gladiators, they were muscular yes, but also big and bulky, this was going to be a breeze.
Rachael watched Jack pick up one of the sponge balls. She had a microphone attached to her head so she could direct the camera operators. She made sure they caught Jack’s cocky smirk. It was played on the big screen in one corner that ensured no one missed a second of the action. Maybe a few more balls would be on show before long, Rachael hoped.
The event played out like Jack had expected, he was too quick, fit and nimble for the gladiators, whose bulk slowed them down. Despite the straining muscles, all of the contestant’s costumes stayed on. By the end, Jack had scored a healthy points tally and was gloating in his success. Lizzy, the leggy blonde presenter in a short leather skirt was quickly on the scene to interview.
“Jack, you made mincemeat of them guys,” she said glancing down at the slight bulge in his small outfit. “It seems your day job stood you in good stead.”
“Thanks Lizzy, yeah those guys don’t have anything I ain’t seen before. They’re just big pussycats,” he said, enjoying winding them up.
All three gladiators were pulling angry faces to the camera, acting out their personas.
“Oooh, be careful now they don’t always play nice, but tell me Jack you’ve got speed, strength and stamina, just what is your weakness?”
He looked her up and down, his trademark grin appearing as he did so.
“Hot blondes Lizzy, hot blondes.”
“Aren’t you the charmer,” she said, succumbing to his charm. “Well done, good luck with the next event.”
Lizzy gave him a peck on the cheek after the camera had cut, taking advantage of the perks of the job as she saw it. Like Rachael she checked out his ass through the thin material as he walked away.
Next up was the wall and Jack proved just as successful as he had in the first event. He flew up it, the gladiator in hot pursuit stood no chance. Jack stood at the top saluting the crowd, much to Rachael’s irritation. Little did anyone know, but a small and imperceptible tear had developed on the shoulder of Jack’s outfit, a result of some loose stitches courtesy of Rachael.
As he gloated he was joined again by Lizzy and preceded to revel in his prowess, flexing his biceps and grinning for the camera. When they stopped rolling he gratuitously flirted with the presenter, telling her how he’d love to see more of her, one hand firmly planted on her behind. It was almost prescient, except that in a few moments it would be her, rather than him, doing all the seeing.
The third event was called Hang tough. This was it. As Jack limbered up he looked at the gladiator on the platform across from him. He looked angry, was a beast of a man, all bulging muscles. His gladiator name Rhino suited him. The object of the event was to swing across the rings that hung from the ceiling and reach the opposing platform. The catch was that Rhino would be doing his utmost to stop him.
The crowd by now were fully immersed in the action, the Amazonian female gladiators watched from the sidelines interested to see if Jack could make it three out of three. Lizzy stood having her make up brushed up, ready for the events end. Rachael had a good vantage point below, was desperate for something to happen, give the crowd and television viewers something they’d never seen before. Her prayers were about to be answered.
“On my whistle,” said the adjudicator. “Ready…Set…Go!”
A roar rippled around the arena as the two men swung out onto the rings. Jack headed to the right flank, gliding effortlessly, his strong upper body strength from all the years playing football standing him in good stead. Rhino pure power, tracked his movements, his face etched in a frown, this guy’s going down. The crowd in a frenzy cheered as the two men swiftly headed towards each other. Perceiving the outcome, Jack changed course and swung inwards, quickly from ring to ring. Rhino stayed with him, this suckers mine.
The men collided with an almighty thud in the centre of the rings. It wasn’t enough to bring either one of them down. Both men hung on, and as the momentum carried them back into one another, Rhino stretched out an arm to bring him down. Jack smashed it aside. The crowd rose to fever pitch.
Yet, as Jack tried reaching, straining, for a different ring in a desperate effort to take him away from Rhino’s grasp, he couldn’t make it. As their momentum carried them into one another for a second time, Rhino got his man. Jack held on for dear life as Rhino, limpet like, clamped onto him, pressing his entire weight trying to bring him down. In his attempt, Rhino gripped the thin straps that went over Jacks shoulders. At this point it appeared there was only one inevitable outcome.
But then it happened. In the blink of an eye Jack’s outfit tore completely in two, Rhino plummeted to the pool of soft balls below, cushioning his fall. There was an audible gasp from the crowd as Jack hung stark naked from the rings, a piece of red material dangling from one foot, all that remained of his costume. There was a split second pause before laughter filled the arena as Jack’s small, stubby penis, and tiny balls, dangled exposed to their gaze. The area was starkly highlighted by pale white skin, tan lines delineating where his shorts would normally be.
“I want a camera on that cock,” yelled Rachael into her headset, above the din of the cheering and jeering of the crowd.
Jack had two options, fall and protect his modesty or continue on and take the points. The competitor in him kicked in. He swung on, him and his little todger, much to the amusement of the thousands of people watching in the arena and the thousands more back home on television. And of course Rachael who was revelling in her revenge.
When Jack got to the platform he was greeted by smiling, leggy Lizzy, who was slightly flummoxed by having star quarterback Jack Luscombe naked before her.
“That was very um, er, revealing,” she said, searching for the right words, as she looked him up and down.
Jack was covering his crown Jules with his hands, but the big screen was repeatedly replaying the moment of his exposure and the shot of his small penis, much to the delighted crowd.
“But you got there in the end,” finished Lizzy recovering some composure.
“Yeah,” replied Jack sheepishly, still breathing heavily and blushing from head to toe. “It obviously didn’t quite go to plan,” he muttered for once lost for words.
“I’ll say, but you gave us a great show,” said beaming Lizzy seeing Jack edge away, clearly desperate to end the interview.
Lizzy was enjoying this way too much to end it just yet.
“Oh yeah yeah, he um, put up a good fight,” said Jack monosyllabically.
“You might want to even up that tan,” she said pointing a finger at his groin.
Jack raised his eyebrows unimpressed.
“Well I’ll let you put some clothes on and cover up, much to the displeasure of all the ladies out there. Like I said great show out there.”
“Thanks,” said Jack deflated, quickly moving to the ladder and getting down off the platform and away from the thousands of prying eyes still on him.
Lizzy got to see Jack’s ass, naked and bare this time. ‘Who would have thought it,’ she thought smiling, looking over to the monitor for a second viewing. After Jack had descended the ladder he stormed off down the tunnel. Someone from the show passed him a towel as he did so, which he took ungratefully, muttering curse words, irate at what had just happened.
Little did he realise it, but that person was his fellow college alumni Rachael. She watched as he covered himself and disappeared off to the changing area, a broad smile spread across her face. Now they were finally even.
That night Rachael learned that viewing figures had gone through the roof, due to Jack’s little costume malfunction. The show was a huge success, and for Rachael the catalyst for a long and successful career in the television industry. Jack would continue his success in major league football, but for the rest of his life would be dogged by comments related to the size of his manhood. The clip from the show never tired and became something of a classic on blooper shows.
The Slave Auction
*****
“Knees up, push harder, harder, harder,” shouted Marco.
Rosie dug deep, feeling the burn in her legs. Having already lunged, squatted, pushed and pulled herself through a vigorous workout routine, she was on her final exercise, the running machine.
“Keep pushing, another thirty seconds,” said Marco, her personal trainer overseeing things, admittedly enjoying putting Rosie through her paces.
He’d worked at the gym for a little over two years and in that time worked with clients of all ages, sizes and shapes. But nothing compared to having an attractive, nubile young thing like Rosie before him. He admired her slim, toned body for a moment. It was encased in only small black shorts and a tiny tight vest top, baring her flat smooth midriff. She was a natural beauty. Days like today made his job all worth it.
“Twenty more seconds, twenty more seconds,” he yelled, pushing the speed button on the running machine up a notch.
Marco liked testing the limits of young things like Rosie, taking them places they didn’t think they could go. And Rosie certainly felt like she was going somewhere she didn’t want. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen, perspiration glistened on her silky skin.
“Just ten seconds, ten more seconds,” he insisted, upping the intensity of the machine yet again and counting down from a stopwatch that hung from his neck.
She gave it everything, her last ounce of energy as her legs tightened up and the machined mercifully slowed to a stop.
“Good job,” said Marco, patting her bum as he helped her from the machine.
Immediately she bent double, still breathing heavily, feeling exhausted as she caught her breath. Marco came up behind her, ready to stretch out those taut, tight muscles. He put his hands first on her hips, before moving them firmly onto her tight, curvy behind. Rosie swung round and swatted them away feeling hot, sweaty and bad tempered.
“Jesus Marco, I get that your touchy feely and all, but there is a line you know,” she said fuming.
It wasn’t the first time his hands had strayed inappropriately. It was becoming something of a habit of his. Yes, he was a young, good-looking guy, but he had no right to virtually touch her up under the guise of his job. She certainly wasn’t going to stand for it, however attractive he was.
“What’s wrong?” he said, with an innocent expression of dumb befuddlement. “I was just helping you warm down.”
“Really, is that all you were doing?”
“Yeah really!” he countered.
She grabbed her towel and headed off to the changing area, not looking back.
“Come on Rosie,” he called after her to no avail. “Damn it.”
Cursing he slammed his fist into a punch bag. For obvious reasons Rosie was exactly the type of girl he wanted at the gym. She was a pleasure to train and deep down in Marco’s eyes, potentially more than just a paying customer.
In the changing room, Rosie pulled on a sweater, grabbed her things and headed out the gym still annoyed. It took her good few minutes to calm herself as she sat inside her car taking slow, deep breaths. For a split second it had crossed her mind that maybe her outburst had been too much, but she’d quickly rebuked herself for thinking such thoughts. If it weren’t for his good looks Marco would be explaining himself to the manager right now. Just let it go, let it go she told herself.
Feeling calmer she started the engine, keen to get home and get ready for what promised to be an exciting night. It was her twenty fifth birthday tomorrow, and she and her girlfriends had agreed tonight would be the night they’d celebrate it. What exactly they had planned was shrouded in secrecy. The only instruction they’d given was to prepare for a night of Glitz and Glam. As she pulled out the parking lot, she pushed what had happened in the gym to the back of her mind, already thinking what fun might be in store.
Marco watched from the window as her car accelerated away.
“Damn it,” he said, cursing again, hoping that wouldn’t be the last he’d see of her.
Later that day, having gone through the timely, but enjoyable ritual of getting ready for a big night out, Rosie pulled on the figure hugging, gold strapless dress, she’d picked out specially. With her make up done, her glossy hair swept down, she was ready for the evening ahead.
“How do I look?” she asked, pulling down the short hem of her dress.
“Scandalicious,” replied curly haired, Christina, her flat mate and best friend, who dressed in a sparkly, sequined silver number, didn’t look so bad herself.
Rosie finished putting on her sparkly heels, just in time as a car tooted outside.
“That’s us,” said Christina, grabbing her purse.
When Rosie stepped outside her mouth dropped open. Parked waiting was a classy black stretch limo. Leaning out the open window, was none other than a blonde bombshell named Bianca, another of her good friends.
“Party time!” she shouted to them excitedly.
“I don’t believe you girls,” mouthed Rosie, looking at the glistening limo.
Inside the plush limo the two girls joined Bianca and two more of Rosie’s friends. Perfect petite, Penelope, and delectable, dark, Denise. The five girls all looked the part, red carpet ready in their tight, shimmering dresses. As the vehicle got moving the girls cracked open the bubbly and toasted to Rosie. It didn’t take long before conversation turned to the night ahead.
“What’s this big surprise then, where we off to?” asked Rosie.
“Ah, ah, ah, not quite yet,” said Christina.
She was enjoying holding Rosie in suspense. Her flat mate was well known amongst the group as a stickler for tardiness and planning ahead. Tonight was about relaxing, de-cluttering her mind of any worries and spontaneity.
“Come on girls, I’m on tenterhooks here, at least give me a clue.”
The four girls looked at her having expected as much. They’d prepared a few tit bits to let her feed on without giving much away.
“Okay, three clues,” said Christina.
Rosie tossed her hair back and settled herself on the plush leather ready to begin guessing.
“Clue number one, delicious food,” said Penelope, licking her lips coyly.
Rosie nodded running through a list of restaurants.
“Clue number two, gorgeous men,”
added Denise, raising an eyebrow.
Okay, a restaurant with a bar or club thought Rosie, narrowing down her search.
“Any ideas?” asked Christina.
“The Lounge?.... Ruby’s?....The Loop?” guessed Rosie.
The four girls shook their heads, giggling at every wrong answer.
“Okay, clue number three?”
“Naked men!” enthused Bianca, grinning naughtily.
Rosie looked at the four of them as they broke into laughter seeing her look of perplexed mystification.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve got some trashy, male stripper planned.”
“Oh no, much better, much much better,” said Christina as the four women burst into a conspiratorial laugh.
As the limo sped on Rosie was surprised to see they were heading away from the city, out into the lush green countryside, gradually along narrow country lanes. When they reached their destination darkness had all but fallen. The limo crept past thick stonewalls, between an open tall black iron gate and along a never-ending driveway.
Through the tinted windows she could see manicured lawns and slowly, honing into view ahead of them, a grand stately home. Every single room in the Georgian pile was on, making the fine house shine a rich golden yellow. To Rosie it looked like something out of a fairytale.
“Where are you taking me?”
“This should explain a few things,” said Christina, passing her a crisp laminated card. “Your invitation.”
The card was black except for the cat like gaze of a woman’s eyes, beneath the image in swirling purple lettering were the words, ‘Glitz and Glam.’ A small gold inscription in the bottom right corner spelt Club Divine, with its logo of red lips curled into a smile.
All Rosie knew about Club Divine was that it was an extremely exclusive members club. The themed parties they hosted were notorious for their secrecy as well as their feminist bent. It was an organisation run for, and by females. Any man that did attend was there only for one purpose, the pleasure of the female guests.