In Chapter One, Twenty five year old Rick was out for a jog when he was stopped by millionaire Charles Winston, a sleazy old man with too much money and a fetish for making men wrestle for his enjoyment in the basement arena at his mansion.
When he offers Rick a ride, Rick refuses and Charles doesn’t take no for an answer and has his body guard, a big man named Jason put a debilitating bear hug on the young man and he’s hauled to Charles’ mansion where in Chapter 2 he is taken below ground to where some literal underground fighting takes place. There he meets his opponent, a burly truck driver: Van “The Truck” Carson and sees the big man’s power when the Truck drives an elbow into the wall.
And that’s where we left off….
Rick’s eyes flashed back and forth between the dent in the wall made by Van Carson’s beefy elbow and the big man responsible for it:
Van “The Truck” Carson himself.
- “If that son of a bitch had hit me I’d…” Rick said towards Charles’ direction.
- “We wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we son?” Charles drew on his cigar and then exhaled. “I hope my smoking doesn’t hinder your match?”
The old man seemed to enjoy Rick’s fear and excitement.
Rick ignored him. He knew if he was going to have a chance of surviving he had to stay out of the Truck’s reach and arguing with the old man wouldn’t help.
Maybe a choke hold from behind?
He’d have to slow the monster down first.
Judging from the stench around him, the Truck was a cigar smoker too, so maybe he could use that to his advantage.
The Truck’s eyes roved over Rick’s muscular torso in the tight red singlet.
- “Nice abs, blondy,” Van Carson said in his thick southern accent. “They look pretty enough, but I wonder how much of a beatin’ they can take?”
Rick hoped he didn’t have to find out.
He tried to circle behind Van Carson, forcing the man to keep moving. He was pretty sure he could outlast a smoker’s stamina and thought if he could get the Truck tired he might have a ghost of a chance.
His 5’11”, 165lbs wasn’t much thrown up against all 6’4” 247lbs of the Truck.
The Truck grinned, knowing what the kid was trying.
- “Come on boy, do you think that’s gonna work? I’m gonna catch ya and then…”
With a lunge he grabbed Rick’s wrist and held tight, Rick tried to thrash free as the Truck brought his fist up….
- “Too early to end it now,” he said with a lop sided grin. Come ‘ere boy, give me a hug!” he pulled Rick into a reverse bearhug, pulling his paw like fists into his gut and squeezing, grinding in deep and painfully until Rick’s abs felt as if they were being broken.
This wasn’t a suffocating hug like the one Jason had, this one was all about causing pain!
Rick yelled and tried to break free, he pounded his fists against Van Carson’s meaty wrists but it had no effect.
The big man swung Rick from side to side, his ribs were being wrenched and the air in him was being pushed out!
Then he shook him really hard and Rick stopped fighting to suck some breath in.
- “Who’s outta breath now, kid?” the Truck growled in his ear.
He dropped him and Rick scrambled away, he was right…he was out of breath now and even more at a disadvantage.
Meanwhile, the Truck seemed to have not even broken a sweat man-handling him like that.
The Truck chuckled and watched him check his ribs for injury.
Charles smiled in approval. His hands were hidden by the gate and Rick had an uneasy feeling about where they were and what they were doing out of sight.
He had to keep his attention on the Truck he had to…
BAM! The Truck suddenly slammed into him and before he knew it he was pressed against the wall and dazed, he really feel like he’d just been hit by a truck!
For a big man he was fast.
Dazed and with the Truck’s gut pressing him against the wall, Rick tried to push away but had no where to go.
- “Ya like me up against ya like this boy?” Truck asked, using his stomach and chest to crush him closer against the wall and grinding his stained shirt against Rick’s torso, getting his sweat and stench on him.
Rick tried to say no, but his mouth was muffled by the Truck’s chest.
The bastard stunk! In any other situation he’d have gagged but he was too desperate to get away.
Then the Truck propped his weight out from the wall with his arms and pushed back away from Rick, allowing him to finally draw a breath.
He was still trapped but it felt so good to have that weight off he…BAM! The Truck pushed his weight against Rick again and started grinding him.
He repeated this twice more, like some sort of pushups against the wall, each time filling Rick’s nose and mouth with his trucker’s musk.
On the last press he pushed so hard that Rick thought he’d be flattened.
With his face between the crevice of the Truck’s sweaty pecs he couldn’t even yell now, when he tried he got a mouth full of dirty t-shirt and wetness.
Van Carson licked his lips and seemed to enjoy the grind.
Charles did too, he had a sadistic grin on his face and had a cigar clenched in his teeth.
Finally, Charles motioned Truck to move back off the kid and he did.
Rick fell to his knees, sucking in air and coughing.
He could literally taste the trucker from that move. He was disgusted and spit as much out as he could.
But now he was pissed off and wanted some revenge.
He was still afraid but the anger took the edge off.
- “Get yer breath back kid, then we go again,” the Truck said, stepping back and folding his big arms over his chest.
Rick took the offer, he needed it. He rested and got his wind back, just like he would after a hard jog.
Running wasn’t working and his last strategy had failed.
Get with it man! He told himself. He shook his head. He was ready to go, ready as he’d ever be that is.
Truck grinned and slapped his chest.
- “Free shot for ya, come on!”
Rick was uncertain how to respond. It could be a trap, but he didn’t have much to lose now anyway.
He approached Van Carson who stood with his hairy arms outstretched and his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as if to show he was giving him a fair chance to get in a good shot.
Rick knew a body shot would be a waste. The Truck would probably not even feel it.
A head shot might be more effective, but he was almost certain Carson’s chin was too solid for a knockout. Any submission holds would be a total waste too…he saw an image in his head of himself giving Van Carson a bear hug and almost laughed out loud.
Then he had an idea.
Almost every man shared one weak spot no matter how big and mean he was. The nuts.
But did he dare? If he screwed this up, the Truck was going to be really pissed off….
But a nut shot, if it worked, might bring the big bruiser to his knees and allow him to get a knee in to his head.
He wondered if the Truck was anticipating it, setting him up even…
He stepped forward and feinted for the Truck’s head, the man didn’t even blink, and at the same time he brought his knee up as hard as he could and drove it with everything he had straight into the Van “the Truck” Carson’s balls! He felt his knee connect and squish the heavy nutsack against Carson’s groin and the big man hollered and roared like a beast!
He grabbed Rick but let go again to grab his sack and fall over on the ground, growling in agony.
Charles was sitting with a straight face. He’d probably seen this coming. Rick doubted he was pleased, but who could say?
He’d been hoping to get the Truck on his knees, but instead he was on his side. Rick knew he had to act fast or he’d give the man time to get up again.
It made him cringe to think about hitting a human in such a way but he had no choice.
He ran forward and soccer ball kicked the Truck as hard as he could, right in the head. His foot connected with a smack and pain ran up his ankle.
Ouch. He hoped he hadn’t killed the man. It was self defense either way and he couldn’t afford to be a pacifist.
But the Truck was already pushing back up, growling angrily.
Rick ran forward and kicked again, but this time he missed and the Truck grabbed his ankle and yanked it, pulling Rick down.
Van Carson climbed to his feet, groped his aching balls and then tore his sweat stained shirt off with a roar.
- “Okay boy, ya wanna play rough? Ya wanna make this a real fight?” Truck bellowed.
Rick looked up at the big man and scrambled back to his feet. “Oh crap,” he muttered. Before he could get up he found himself hauled to his feet by a meaty hand and pushed against the wall.
- “You’re gonna suffer now, boy!” Van Carson said through gritted teeth.
He shoved Rick when he tried to get away, slamming his head against the wall and dazing him.
Rick felt woozy, what was he going to do?
The Truck grabbed him by his right nipple and squeezed it between his fore finger and thumb, mashing it real slow.
- “I’m gonna mash you, kid,” he growled.
Rick cried out from the sudden sharp pain and tried to break the big man’s grip but found it firm.
The Truck started pressing him against the wall again, this time his sweaty, hairy chest and belly right against Rick’s own sweating body.
The hair was softer than he’d have thought, but still course enough that it rubbed at his now tender right nipple.
Then the Truck snaked his arms between Rick and the wall and wrapped them around Rick’s trim body and started squeezing, compressing his ribs.
Rick’s face sank between Truck’s hairy pecs and when he tried to scream his mouth filled with hair…which was even worse.
Using the wall, the Truck made the bear hug even worse by pushing his weight against his victim. Rick’s ribs and back started making a popping sound.
Charles was grinning in approval with his cigar clenched between his teeth and his hands hidden from view.
Rick was suffocating from the pressure, the squeeze and from being pushed in all that hair and fatty muscle. It was a nightmare, being suffocated by a man’s chest!
He struggled until he couldn’t and started blacking out…it hurt so much that he almost thought even death would be welcome. The pain started fading as he sank into an unconscious state…
But Van Carson felt Rick going out and released some pressure so he could keep him awake.
“You ain’t getting’ out that easy, boy,” he said in his deep southern accent.
With room to breathe again, Rick gasped and gasped for air, his lungs were burning but it felt great to breathe again!
But The Truck was not going to have mercy, far from it. He hip tossed Rick back to the middle of the room and stalked him with heavy steps.
Rick was too out of it to know which direction he was coming from, still he tried to get up.
Truck grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet and reared back a paw then slammed it open handed into Rick’s stomach, driving the air out.
Rick couldn’t even cry out, he just hung their with his mouth open in Truck’s grip.
Truck repeated the move and Rick was sure his insides were injured now if they hadn’t already been .
His vision was blurred and then a sharp pain hit him, he realized Truck had repaid him by slapping him in the balls. The pain stung and spread into his stomach and guts.
Rick thought he’d throw up, but he couldn’t, the world was spinning and he was suddenly up in another bear hug, his feet dangling off the floor.
- “Want me to finish him?” Truck asked Charles. “Ready for Road Kill?”
Charles raised a hand and grinned, then made a thumbs down sign.
Truck nodded, he ran with Rick in his bear hug and slammed him back first in the hold against the wall. CRACK!
Rick was out cold, it was like being in a car wreck, he was bleeding from the nose, but still alive.
Truck held him away from the wall and squeezed, and squeezed, even unconscious, Rick made gurgling noises from his mouth.
He carried him closer to Charles so he could get a better view and continued grinding Rick’s ribs and back in his arms. Letting the old man enjoy the show. The ruined jobbers body was really doing the trick for the cruel old demon. The Truck didn’t care why the old man liked it, just that he paid for it. This was Road Kill, his finishing bear hug.
Finally Rick made a farting noise as the Truck forced the last remaining air from his insides out and his bowels started to release. It stank.
Deciding he’d had enough, Van the Truck Carson dropped the young man in a heap on the floor and wiped his nose with the back of his meaty paw and looked down at his work.
Rick was breathing but not moving. If not treated he’d be in some seriously bad shape.
- “Pay up old man,” he told Charles.
Charles nodded.
- “You’ll be paid at the same place you were last time. Excellent job, Mr. Carson. and you even managed to keep him alive. I believe in a few months he’ll be ready to fight again!”
- “What if he reports us?” Truck asked as he dug in his pocket and pulled out the stub of an old cigar and stuck it in his teeth. “Sure you don’t want him dead?”
- “I don’t intend to kill all of my jobbers. Especially not ones like him. Executions happen in fights but killing him afterwards isn’t my style at all. You just let me handle the authorities.”
The Truck lit his cigar and puffed it. “If you say so. Call me when you want somebody run over again,” he mumbled around the stub.
Rick woke up in a room with a white ceiling. He was numb feeling and had trouble breathing, but he was alive.
- “Awake?” Charles asked, he was sitting in a chair beside the bed, leaning on his cane.
- “You bastard…” Rick wheezed. His voice barely audible.
- “Is that anyway to speak to someone who has set up with you for two nights and saved your life? Yes, I saved you, Rick. You will make a full recovery.” Charles said. “I expect you to fight again someday. Maybe even pack on some muscle and last a bit longer.”
- “Why would I do that?” Rick asked.
Charles held a wad of cash in front of Rick’s nose. There was at least two thousand dollars there.
- “Because,” Charles said. “The only people to make more than the heels are the jobbers. And I will pay you handsomely to keep your pretty little mouth shut and fight.”
Rick’s eyes lit up at the sight of so much cash and he licked his dry lips.
- “One thousand for your match the other night and one thousand more to keep quiet about what happened,” Charles said.
Rick was afraid to fight again but he was even more afraid of what Charles would do if he said no.
- “Deal,” he said.
“Good boy. Get some rest and I’ll have you sent home tomorrow. I’ve already checked in at your job and will have you a doctor’s excuse prepare.”
Rick nodded. Why would he agree to such terms? That was a lot of money and he’d survived after all…
- “Oh and Rick,” Charles said as he stood at the door. “If you ever think of double crossing me, please think of your mother Diane, your girlfriend Allie and the others you love. I am not one to be trifled with and if you were to go to the authorities I don’t believe they could act faster than my boys.
It’s just business.”
Rick’s heart was pounding. Charles must have used his cell phone and his wallet to get all kinds of background on him, or maybe he’d been stalking him. Now he had no choice. He couldn’t risk his loved ones.