The News Division: Match 5
Roberts vs. Cuomo
After everyone made it back up the cliff and got cleaned up, the six newsmen gathered in the living room. As expected, the plasma screen sprang to life, with Eli Brody’s grinning face filling the screen.
“Fantastic fight!” Eli cheered. “You do not disappoint. In fact we have major new sponsors clamoring to come on board, due to the remarkable appeal you’ve tapped into. Both semi-final matches will take place tomorrow. At noon, Chris and Thomas will square off. As soon as that match is over, Carter and Rob will take the beach.”
Rob grunted his approval at the match-up, glaring angrily at Carter across the room. Carter smiled slyly back.
“Two of our sponsors have invested in some special challenges to help you earn a little more pay off during tomorrow’s matches. Pore-Away acne cream will provide sponsorship of producer credits for a major film to one fighter. The fighter who wins and displays the most popular victory pose will be awarded the film sponsorship. One of you will enjoy the opportunity to move behind camera and get into the potentially lucrative film side of our industry.” All six men looked very interested.
Eli continued, “The second sponsorship comes from Male Fitness online-zine. They’re offering a quarter of your yearly salary to any fighter that takes off their speedos in this round of fighting. Their consumers want to see the full-monty, gentlemen.” There was uncomfortable shifting as each man measuring his price to go naked. “Oh, and if any of you don’t fight au natural, your bonus will go to your opponent, if they take your speedos off by force during the fight.”
Eli paused, allowing the hidden cameras time to capture reaction shots from each of the men. “I suggest you rest up,” he finally concluded. “Four of you have a big day ahead.”
At noon the following day, Chris and Thomas walked onto the beach. Chris wore navy blue speedos, and Thomas wore black trunks. Both men were tanned significantly darker than when they’d first arrived at the beach house. They were closely matched in size and fitness. Chris had dispatched his first round opponent more quickly than had Thomas, but Thomas had taken the time to truly humiliate his opponent. Both men were suitably cautious, respecting each other’s strength and fierceness. Both men also noted that neither of them had yet chosen to accept the full-monty challenge.
The horn sounded on the cliff above, signaling the beginning of the fight. Both hunks crouched low, slowly circling in the sand. Thomas lunged forward a couple of times, quickly abandoning his try at a single leg as Chris danced away. Both men cautiously extended their arms, locking together in a collar and elbow. Pushing and jockeying against one another, Thomas managed to muscle Chris off balance. He threw Chris onto his back on the sand, quickly dropping on top of his opponent. Straddling him in the mount, Thomas reached toward his opponent’s head, but Chris grabbed his wrists defensively. Muscles straining against one another, Thomas leaned forward, allowing gravity to add to his superior strength. Chris’ arms began to quiver as he held Thomas suspended above him. Slowly his strength weakened, and Thomas pressed his arms downward onto Chris’s broad chest.
Thomas slid his left arm sideways, slowly pressing his forearm against Chris’ neck. Chris’ face began to grow red as he pressed back as hard as he could. Releasing his right hand, Chris grabbed a small handful of sand and flung it into Thomas’ face. Thomas instinctively brought both of his hands to his face defensively, wiping the sand away from his vulnerable eyes. Chris bent his knees and pressed his feet into the sand, quickly arching his back up and off the beach. Thomas sprawled forward, landing over the top of Chris’ head, still wiping at his eyes.
Chris wasted no time, spinning over onto his stomach and grabbing hold of each of Rob’s ankles. Chris yanked Thomas’ legs out from underneath him, stretching him out over the sand. Chris stepped his right foot around and over Thomas’ legs, straddling him facing backward still holding onto Thomas’ ankles. Hooking Thomas’ ankles underneath his armpits, Chris squatted backward, folding Thomas’ body backward in a tightly locked Boston crab. Thomas grunted deeply.
Chris strained, pressing his body backward, applying more pressure onto Thomas’ lower back. “Give it up!” Chris shouted.
Thomas chuckled. Lifting himself onto his hands, Thomas pressed his upper body high off the sand. Chris was thrown off balance enough for Thomas to twist his legs free. He kicked Chris’ back sharply, sending him sprawling on the sand, his back arched in pain. Both men rolled away from one another and came slowly to their feet.
After a second to catch his breath, Chris charged forward, grabbing Thomas’ outstretched right hand. Twisting Thomas’ arm sharply, Chris spiraled his body powerfully around, applying full pressure on Thomas’ locked right arm. Thomas had no option but to sommersault forward, rather than have his shoulder ripped apart. He landed hard on his back, gasping in pain as Chris maintained his lock on his arm.
Chris kneeled next to Thomas’ prone body, wedging his knee against the back of Thomas’ hyperextended elbow. With his left hand remaining locked around Thomas’ wrist, Chris wrapped his right hand over the top of Thomas’ palm. Chris pressed the palm backward by the fingers, hyperextending it toward Thomas’ wrist. Thomas gasped in pain.
Before Chris could react, Thomas pulled his knees to his chest, planted his feet against Chris’ chin, and kicked him away. Chris flew backward, losing his grip on Thomas’ wrist. Chris rolled to his side, but Thomas had already jumped on top of him. Pinning Chris’ torso with his hands, Thomas extended his right leg straight backward, his weight resting on his left knee. In quick, violent bursts, Thomas repeatedly drove his right knee into Chris’ abdomen. Chris winced in pain, trying to double over defensively, but being held in place by Thomas muscled body bearing down on him.
Thomas spun around to Chris’ head, grabbing Chris by his knees and folding his body tightly, ass skyward. Stunned and in pain, Chris didn’t realized what was happening until Thomas had reached his hand between Chris’ legs and grabbed the back of Chris’ navy trunks. Pulling fiercely, with a grunt, Thomas ripped the speedos off Chris’ ass and up to his knees. Chris began to kick and squirm frantically, but Thomas was able to stand and remove Chris’ trunks completely. Backing away from his humiliated opponent, Thomas twirled the navy blue speedos around on his index finger, smiling. “Lose something?” he asked.
Chris pounded his fists in the sand angrily. Now completely naked, he lay on his back in the sand. Well endowed and smoothly shaven, where his speedo had been, Chris was pale white, starkly contrasted with his deep tan over the rest of his body.
Quickly, Thomas bent over and pulled off his black trunks, securing both full-monty bonuses for the match. Thomas also had a contrasting tan line where his speedo was. He was visibly excited by the turn the match had taken.
Chris rolled to his stomach and came slowly to his feet, watching Thomas cautiously. “Nice… muscle,” Thomas said with a smile, nodding at Chris’ crotch. “I may need to devote some special attention there before we’re done.”
Thomas lunged low, wrapping his arms around Chris’ waist and locking his wrists behind Chris’ back. Just as Thomas lifted Chris sharply in the beginning of a bearhug, Chris defensively bent his right knee forward. As Thomas hefted his opponent powerfully upward, he inadvertently drove Chris’ knee sharply into his own balls. Thomas gasped and choked, wide-eyed, as he lost his grip. Chris dropped harmlessly to his feet.
Without pausing, Chris grabbed Thomas’ hair in both hands. Pulling Thomas’ head downward, Chris drove his left knee upward. Chris’ knee crashed into Thomas’ jaw with a loud crack, and Thomas fell to his knees, dazed, clutching his jaw. Furiously, Chris pulled Thomas by the hair, pressing his gaping face into his groin. “Take a good look, smart ass” Chris growled.
Thomas weakly tried to push his hands against Chris’ thighs. With a jerk, Chris shoved Thomas’ head tightly between his thick thighs, wrapping his arms around Thomas’ waist. With a grunt of effort, Chris pulled Thomas off his feet, suspending him in an inverted, reverse bearhug. High in Chris’ grasp, Thomas’ balls hung inches in front of Chris face, his legs spread wide. Lips curled, teeth clenched, Chris dropped to his knees, driving Thomas’ already dazed head straight downward into the sand. Thomas bounced shortly, then fell to his stomach, his head face down in the sand between Chris’ upper thighs. He remained motionless, except for his fingers slowly clutching uselessly at the sand.
“Not enough,” Chris mumbled, as he climbed to his feet and straddle-walked the length of Thomas’ body. Grabbing Thomas’ ankles, Chris again hooked them under his armpits and squatted, pressing his full weight down and backward. Thomas’ legs arched painfully backward, his lower back being folded in half. Chris lowered himself farther into his squat, finally coming to rest, cheek to cheek, on top of Thomas’ bare ass. Still dazed, Thomas struggled, but was too weak and disoriented to pull free. Feeling his back locking painfully, vertebrae grinding against vertebrae, Thomas screamed in incoherent pain. “How does it feel, fucker!?” Chris screamed.
Thomas shouted, “I submit!” But Chris held the Boston crab, leaning backward as far as he could. Again, Thomas screamed out in pain, fists pounding the sand in desperation. Finally, Chris stood up and threw Thomas’ legs to the sand. Turning, Chris stomped on the small of Thomas’ back with his right heel. He spat on the back of Thomas’ head, and then flexed a sweaty, sand-coated double bicep pose as he glared at the back of Thomas’ head. “You had that coming,” Chris growled.
He dropped his huge arms and turned to face the other newshunks watching silently across the beach. His pumped pecs and cock bounced, as he stared defiantly.
—Read what happens next: The News Division – Match 6—