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From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister)
Subject: Story:  Vengeance of Oblivion - oblivion.txt [1/1]
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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.

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