Message-ID: <5545eli$9711082204@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/5545.txt> From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister) Subject: Story: Vengeance of Oblivion - oblivion.txt [1/1] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <642ugp$lnt$1@solaris.cc.vt.edu> Greetings from the shadows dear reader! This is a special story, one which has been forming hin what passes for my mind for quite some time, and I hope you enjoy it. Just a bit of background: I LOVE PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING! Now to biz: all standard disclaimers apply. If you are under 18 or live in a community where adult material is not wanted, do not read this! Do not make a profit off of my work. Repost freely... so long as you give full credit to the author. All comments can be directed to dez187lm@hotmail.com and I will reply to all who spare the time. _______________________________________________________________________ Vengeance of Oblivion By: H.D. Meister Her words blasted his mind into so much shrapnel. He stood alone in the dressing room, wondering what he could have done differently. Nothing. He was who he was, and nothing could change that. Yet her laughter... that sound tormented him day and night. Not even the artificial joy of too much malt liquor could soothe his spirit. He heard that sound. Felt the pain as it ripped through him. And the darkness grew. He saw the blackened gates open, and knew what his father meant. He knew that this was his one chance at redemption... at the cost of his soul. He placed the mask over his face, and entered the realm which he was named for. And somewhere, sitting in a plush chair, the president of the college cried, for Oblivion was reborn. Oblivion Reborn “Ladies and gentlemen. Worthington College would like to warn all parents and spectators in the first two rows. If you are opposed to extreme violence, please exit now.” “Cut the crap. Let’s get this whippin’ over with!” bellowed Good Lookin’ Mike Williams. He was the Collegiate Wrestling League’s champion for two years. No one had even come close to defeating him. Now he strutted, with his personal attendant Valerie, in the wrestling ring. He was a student at Holton University, Worthington’s biggest rival. He was good and knew it. The offers from the biggest of the three main wrestling promotions were coming fast and furious. His blonde locks framed a face too cocky to be anywhere else. His body was lean, honed by many hours in the gym, and between Valerie’s thighs. Bright red trunks covered his crotch, showing a modest bulge. He was ready to add another name to the long list of the fallen. “Ladies and gentlemen. The opponent for tonight’s main event was trained by his father. Alumni from Worthington will know his hand in the creation you are about to witness. You have been warned. The opponent...” Then came the intro music: Children of the Grave by Black Sabbath. Mike stopped prancing around the ring. Fear slapped the cocky smile away from his face as memories of one of the Leagues most feared wrestlers flooded his mind. He remembered the numbers: one hundred and twelve wrestles permanently put out of commission. Banned from the big three... including the most extreme... for being TOO extreme. He remembered the moonsault from the top of the cage onto an opponent sandwiched between two tables. He saw the first ever spinning piledriver, executed from the top ropes onto a steel chair inside of the ring. And... he knew the name of his final foe: Oblivion. The music slid from the speakers. Within seconds, fans of the more hardcore style of wrestling exploded in cheers. Not even sex could match the unchecked power which flowed through their veins. Many women would go unpleasured tonight as their lovers and husbands slept peacefully, knowing bliss that no woman could ever hope to give to such a fan. He exploded down the runway, his all black outfit slicing the brightly lit arena. Women screamed, a primal sound the likes of which roused even the long dead manhoods of the forgotten men in their past. Men knew the power of the instant hardon, and wished that they had brought their video cam recorders. Sex to the vision of Oblivion proving the power of the Nothing Within was a dream second only to fucking some innocent virgin wearing the mantel of Oblivion. Mike knew his end was near, and did his best to quickly become a man, knowing he would fail. No one escaped the wrath of Oblivion. He turned to Valerie, his eye speaking the words that his desert dry throat could not. LEAVE. NOW. PLEASE. When she did not, he knew that all was lost. Oblivion did not care. His body was a weapon, as were tables, chairs, beer cans and bottles, road signs, broom handles, chairs... and fans. He did not care. Oblivion possessed no soul. He did not care. Oblivion was not a man... he was. Not an icon... not a legend. Oblivion... just... was. He remembered the night before. Visions of Valerie sucking his cock. A flash of the sight of his head buried between her thighs. The glimmer of his cum as it shone on her skin. He pushed them aside and called forth his hours of training. And... he prayed. His god was not listening. Oblivion hit the ring, sliding under the bottom rope almost as if the laws of physics were suddenly suspended. He rose, catching sight of Valerie.. She was his tormentor. It was her laughter he heard. He had been granted this one chance to silence that Hell- spawned sound. One chance to ease the pain. The coldness claimed him, welcoming its grandson with open arms. He never even though twice. The first clothesline was nothing short of the first orgasm for those who longed to see the realness of Oblivion. It merely eased a need, and guaranteed a longer, more pleasing torment of pleasure and wonder. He moved with ease, and each maneuver brought about a form of ecstasy unknown. Plancha onto Mike as he tried to escape through the crown. Tiger powerbomb onto the announcer’s desk at ringside. Even the old reliable steel chair to the back. All of these were foreplay... fuel to the fires within him. Roundhouse punch. Ensugiri to the face. Superplex to the outside of the ring. These were nothing more than the act itself: pleasing... but lacking the final destructive fury of orgasm. When Valerie tried to pull him off of Mike’s bloodied body, He knew. This was the orgasm, and it trumpeted its arrival clearly. Oblivion was his name now. None other mattered. There was a time when he would have not laid the thought of pain on her. He no longer cared now. He was. His father was right: there comes a time when nothing matters, and you must decide who and what you are. This was his time. He chose. His hand found her throat and crushed the flesh beneath dead fingers. Once... he would have had that hand slide carefully over her flesh. He would have pulled lust from within her slowly, basking in the feel as it flowed across her flesh. Now... he did not care. She was nothing more than a weapon. He had been used. Now... He walked towards a corner of the ring and climbed. He chuckled as she tried to kick and claw her way to freedom. He ascended to the realm of the great professionals who had preceded him. Their names flared within his mind... each calling him. Beseeching him to follow their call. Then they were paled... by his father’s name. He knew its power. His eyes fell upon hers. “Good-bye, Lily.” He watched as recognition burst in her eyes. When she begged him for mercy, the gates closed. He was home. He lifted her high above his head, and executed the move. It had a name, but that did not matter. He leapt from the top turn buckle, executing a moonsault with her throat still within his hand. As he landed, he knew orgasmic bliss. No amount of time spent pleasing the desires of a woman could hope to give him that feeling. As much as he enjoyed washing his face in the golden flow from her essence, this was... more. He exploded. He who was nothing simply was... was not... and was again. This was true pleasure. Not even the final count mattered. It was but three seconds after bliss. Nothing more. Maybe less. Oblivion rose and looked out upon the masses gathered. This is the true afterglow. There were faces slack with post sex efforts. Eyes unaccustomed to this sight were afraid, for the slumbering beast within them had awakened... and hungered. He could smell the rawness of the men... the pureness of maidens who felt the awakening between thighs long chained by morals and reason. Mothers held their children close as their gaze flickered over the form of the child’s father. The roar of the crowd was the roar of Lust as it showed all its true power. Crotches were wet with soda, beer... and the drool of the beast within their loins. He walked slowly towards the back, lost in the soothing silence of the crowd’s pleasure. “Man... it was awesome! Oblivion kicked his ass big time!” “Almost better than sex!” “You should have seen it!” The words fell on his ears, but he paid them no mind. He worked as he always did, giving everything to the tasks before him. “Did you go to the match?” asked Kari. “Afraid I spent the evening as usual, Kari.” “You really should get out more. How about you and I hit Night Owl’s. The night air will do you good. He looked into her eyes, and saw. The gold belt gained from Mike was nothing. He was nothing. Valerie was less than nothing. Kari... “Sound like a done deal to me. I’ll meet you at seven?” “Great! Hope you are a good pool player.” “I hold my own,” he chuckled. “Say... did you like the matches?” “Yeah. I really liked Oblivion’s match. You know... you two are alike in a lot of ways.” “Now that I’ve gotta hear.” “Tonight.” He saw the fire with her eyes. He remembered the scent of its burning. Nothing. He was nothing. And yet, his father did say that even nothing was... Something. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /