Ring Girl, Part Three
By Sonofjack, sonofjackwell@gmail.com
The continuing story of Susie the ring girl...


"Darling, I got a call about something called The 100 Man Battle Royal that
sounds just like your cup of soup!" This is what my agent Frieda said when she
called me up to tell me about my latest offer. The event in question was being
billed as "the ultimate main event in professional wrestling history" so
naturally they wanted me to participate.

It sounded fun, plus they offered me insane money. I don't really know much
about professional wrestling. Mainly what I know is that both Wilbur and my
old boyfriend Bobby were fans of the movies of that actor Dwayne
something-or-other - the one that can raise one eyebrow. I understand he used
to be a professional wrestler, and he seems pretty cool.

The way this works is that one hundred wrestlers start out in groups of
twenty-five in four rings. Wrestlers are eliminated when they are thrown out
of the ring over the top rope. When the first fifty wrestlers are eliminated,
the remaining wrestlers are consolidated into two rings. When the next
twenty-five wrestlers are thrown out, the final twenty-five get into one ring
and fight it out until only I remain and am declared the winner.

I mean the part where only I remain is not officially part of the rules, but
what other outcome could there realistically be? The thought of beating up
ninety-nine men got me so hot that as soon as I got off the phone with Frieda,
I had to find Wilbur for hot monkey sex. He wasn't in the mood at first, but
after I begged for his sweet baby gherkin for nine minutes, he gave in.

After I agreed to participate in this event, I became a big part of its
promotion. Frieda found out that once word got out that I was in that
pay-per-view sales doubled overnight and continued to climb despite the fact
that they doubled the fee. She used this as leverage to get me even more
money.

I made several appearances on television and online where I gave interviews
(which for some reason the people in the professional wrestling business
called "works") in which I simply told the truth. "I'm going to easily throw
all these guys out of the ring and win this match. It's going to be easy!"

I usually followed this up by doing some amazing feet of strength like
punching through a brick wall or taking a hundred pound weight plate and
folding it in half. It frustrated me to read the comments sections of these
online videos because there were still people who accused me of being a hoax.
I looked forward to demonstrating my immense power at a respected sporting
event like a professional wrestling match. That ought to shut up the trolls
once and for all!

In order to get ninety-nine other wrestlers (I was the only female) they
brought in wrestlers from other promotions. I was told they brought in all the
best wrestlers from the United States, Japan, Mexico and even a few from
Australia and the U.K. This was billed as a "best in the world" tournament.
That suited me fine since I was not only the best fighter in the world, but
also the smokin'est sexy babe in the world.

They told me that there would be giants, kings, big shows, masters of
disaster, show stoppers, big daddies, animals, franchises and main eventers.
They even told me that both "the Hulkster" and "Stone Cold" would be coming
out of retirement. I didn't know what that meant, but they seemed to think it
was a big deal.

I was looking forward to showing everyone that even the best fighting men in
the world were nothing but more weak men for me to overpower and dominate. Not
only that, but I looked damn sexy doing it!

Two days before the event Frieda and I met with the big executives running The
100 Man Battle Royal to discuss how things should go.

"First of all, honey, we love all the interviews you've been doing."

"Thank you, Vince," I told the guy in charge.

"Your attitude has been just perfect - the way you've been going around saying
that you're going to easily win, it's genius! Tell me, how do you work the bit
where you punch through walls and bend iron plates?"

"I don't understand the question," I told him.

"I mean how do you make it look so realistic?"

"It looks so realistic because I do those things for real," I told him.

"Okay, sure," he said as if he didn't believe me. I was beginning to seriously
not like this ass-clown.

"Okay, so here's how it's going to go." He handed me a list with six or seven
names on it. "These are the men that you're going to eliminate in the first
phase of the battle. I picked guys that are relatively light so don't worry.
Besides, they know how to sell it so that it look like you're throwing them
out while they do most of the work."

"I don't understand. I can easily throw any of your wrestlers out of the ring.
I can easily throw them into the balcony if I want to."

"Ha ha! I love it. That's right; don't break character. Now take your time
eliminating these guys. Remember this is a marathon, not a sprint."

"I don't... What are you saying? You act as if these few are the only men I'll
be eliminating." As crazy as it seemed, I got the impression that Vince
thought I wasn't for real - like maybe HE thought I was a hoax. But that was
crazy, right? Why would he want me in this match if I wasn't for real?

"Well . . . yeah. Then three men are going to gang up on you and toss you over
the top rope. Do you know how to take a fall, or do we need to have a few
training sessions?"

"What? Eliminate me? None of your weak wrestlers are powerful enough to
eliminate me!"

"I know that your gimmick is that you're stronger than any man; we're going to
play along. That's why three of them are going to gang up on you."

I walked over to him and grabbed him by his belt. I lifted him up with one
hand and said, "I'm stronger than any three men as well."

"S-s-so should I make it five men ganging up on you?"

"I'm stronger that any five men too!" For some reason he wasn't getting it.

"Could you please put me down so that we can talk about this?" he asked. I put
him down. "Okay I get it," he said, "I underestimated what you can do. This
changes things. How about you make it through the first phase, and you don't
get eliminated up until phase two? And when you do get thrown out of the ring,
I'll have six men gang up on you?" I glared at him. "Seven me? Eight?"

"Why are you so sure that I'm going to be eliminated at all?"

"Not be . . . What? You talk as if you think you're going to win!"

"Yes! Of course I'm going to win! Who else?"

He looked at Frieda, "What's going on here, sister? I thought she knew the
score."

"Why don't you explain it to her," Frieda suggested. "This ought to be good."

He turned back to me. "The whole purpose of this event is to give a big push
to our newest superstar Manford Blanford, the Ultimate Man. Show her the
poster, Paul. So Vince's son-in-law unfurled a poster of a big, muscular,
handsome wrestler. He was in traditional wrestling trunks and boots with no
shirt and doing a double bicep pose. I have to admit that he looked pretty
damn hot.

"How tall is he?" I asked.

"He's 6'11"," Vince replied, "We're planning on making him the new face of the
company. That's why he's got to win The 100 Man Battle Royal."

"I can understand why you want to make him the new face of your company," I
said. "He's got a nice face. But why would you think he's going to win when
I'm so much stronger than he is?" They looked at me like I was crazy. Then it
slowly dawned on me. "Do you mean that professional wrestling is fake?" I
asked.

You'd have thought that I just canceled Christmas by the looks on their faces.
Paul was the first one to speak. "Uh, we don't like to use the "F" word around
here," he explained.

"Then what word would you use?" I asked.

"Fixed maybe?"

"But that's an "F" word too!" I pointed out.

"True," Paul agreed. "That's not exactly the right way to describe it."

"This is sports ENTERTAINMENT," Vince interjected as if somehow that made
everything clear.

"What if I don't want to play along?" I asked.

"Listen, honey," Vince began, "If you do anything to screw Manford's push, you
won't get paid. You dig?" I really wanted to punch his smug face and then beat
up his son-in-law just for the hell of it. Instead I took a deep breath.

"I dig," I replied. We talked for a few more minutes. I pretended to go along
with the plan. Frieda and I left.

"You showed remarkable restraint in there, darling," Frieda told me.

"Yes, well they're in for a surprise. I have no intention of losing this
fight. Defeating someone called the Ultimate Man in front of the entire world
sounds very appealing to me."

"But, darling, if you win you won't get paid, and that means I won't get paid.
Ten percent of nothing is nothing."

"Don't worry. I'll get paid."

"How?"

"I'll simply suggest to Vince that if he ever wants to eat solid foods again,
he'd better pay me."

"But, darling, suppose he barricades himself behind a compound with concrete
walls and hires two hundred expert bodyguards for protection?"

"Then I'll punch my way through those concrete walls and kick the shit out of
two hundred trained bodyguards," I tell her.

"In that case, follow your heart. Darling," she told me.

The night before the battle royal I begged Wilbur to come to the arena so he
could watch me defeat all those men in person, but he insisted that he had to
stay home that night because he and some friends were taking on a rival group
in some kind of online battle game.

"I can't let my friends down," he insisted.

"What about letting me down?" I asked him.

"I'm sorry, but I have a life," he scolded, "Everything isn't about you."

"Yes, Wilbur," I said. Then I spent the next ninety minutes doing sexy poses
for him before pinning him down to the bed and fucking the living daylights
out of him.

The day of the battle royal my old boyfriend Bobby called me to wish me luck.
"I'm looking forward to watching you throw several big bad men out of the
ring."

"Did you know that professional wrestling was fake?" I asked him.

"Sure," he replied, "It's sports entertainment!" There was that phrase again.
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Aren't all sports entertaining? Besides golf and soccer I
mean.

"Be sure and watch tonight because I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm not
going to follow the script; I'm going to win the whole thing."

"Oh my God! Do you mean it? I hope you mean it because that will be so fucking
hot!"

"Bobby, you know I never lie," I reminded him.

"Susie, you're so awesome! Don't get mad, but I wish I was still your
boyfriend. I wish you still loved me."

Here we go again. Every time I talk to Bobby after a few minutes he starts
begging me to take him back. "But I know you love Wilbur now," he said, "I've
finally come to accept that."

"Actually, Wilbur is kind of a douche," I blurted out. I so did not know where
that came from.

"Really?" Bobby sparked up.

"Yes, kind of," I replied, "He neglects me and doesn't fully appreciate me,
and all I ever do is shower him with affection and my smokin' hot body. What's
wrong with him?" These words came pouring out of me almost like it was against
my will.

"I don't know! He sounds like a crazy man. You know that I ALWAYS appreciated
you, right?"

"Yes, that's true; you were always an appreciative and obedient boyfriend."
Yikes! What was I saying? "Well, Bobby, gotta run now."

"Susie wai -" But I hung up. I didn't like the turn that conversation suddenly
took. I immediately found Wilber and gave his penis a tongue bath.

Later at the battle royal, when they introduced all the participating
wrestlers I got by far the loudest applause. That might have something to do
with the new, ultra skimpy string bikini I wore. I wanted to look good for my
fans. I also wore my six inch candy apple red pumps, of course. I wanted to
look good, and damn! I did!

We got divided into four rings. I was assigned to ring number four so I
climbed in there with twenty-four big men. When the bell rang, I just started
grabbing whoever was closest one after the other and throwing them over the
top rope left and right. Within two minutes, I was the only one standing in
ring four. Tossing two and three hundred men twenty or thirty feet with one
hand and what amounted to little more than flicks of my wrists was super easy.

According to the rules, I was supposed to wait until there was a total of
twenty-five combined wrestlers in rings three and four for the officials to
put us together into one ring so we could resume fighting. However, I
eliminated all twenty-four of my opponents in ring four before a single
wrestler had been thrown out of ring three.

As soon as the first wrestler was eliminated from ring three that meant that
there were now twenty-five wrestlers altogether in rings three and four.
Rather than wait for the officials to put us together (I've never been known
for my patience) I simply jumped from ring four into ring three and started
tossing men out of that ring as well. Within minutes I was alone again.

When I got to ring two, the wrestlers there had caught on to what I was doing,
and they tried to stop me. As soon as I landed in the middle of the ring, I
was met with five wrestlers on five different sides attacking me. Three of
them tried drop-kicking me and two of them tried to clothesline me. Someone
should have told them that they might as well have tried drop-kicking and
clotheslining a stone pillar.

I stood there and laughed at them. "Better try something else," I suggested.
Predictably, the three who tried to drop-kick me tried to clothesline, and the
two that tried to clothesline me tried to drop-kick me. The end results were
exactly the same. They didn't move me an inch.

There was fighting going on all around me in my ring and in one other rings
besides, but every eye watching live was glued to me as five big men tried to
move me and failed. Finally I went on the offensive and in three seconds,
those five men went hurling from the center of the ring in five different
directions sixty feet through the air. Two of them actually landed in the
other ring.

A very large giant then tired to lock my arm with his from behind. Even though
his huge arm was more than four times thicker than mine, my arm was at least
ten times stronger than his entire weak body. He tried to use his huge height
advantage and leverage against me, but it didn't work. Once again, with barely
a flick of my wrist, I tossed him from the center of the ring, over the other
wrestlers heads and out of the ring.

I'm sure you can see where this is going. Those weak male wrestlers tried
everything they could think of to eliminate me, but they were just weren't
strong enough. I tossed them here and there with supreme ease. At one time
nine of them tried to jump me at once. Instead of falling, of course, I simply
supported their combined weight of more than 2000 pounds, carried them over to
the side of the ring and chucked them out.

As fate would have it, it came down to me and Manford Blanford, the Ultimate
Man. I walked up to him and looked up. He was 6'11" with rippling muscles; I
was 5'4" of feminine perfection. Guess which one of us was trembling with
terror. I made a quick motion to run my fingers through my long, luxurious,
blonde hair. He must have thought I was going to hit him because he flinched.

"Aw, don't be afraid, little one," I said with a soothing voice.

"Please, don't hurt me," he pleaded.

"I won't," I assured him, "If..."

"What? I'll do anything he whimpered.

"Get down on your hands, remove my six inch candy apple red pumps one at a
time with loving tenderness and kiss my sexy feet and each of my adorable
little toes," I instructed.

With all due reverence, he carefully removed my shoes and began kissing my
feet. At first he was slow and deliberate about it, but I could tell that
before long he got into it. He was no longer just kissing my feet and toes, he
was worshipping them.

It was so hot, and Manford was so muscular and handsome that I started to feel
something. "Oh yeah," I thought to myself, "This is what it feels like to be
worshipped. I forgot how nice it felt. I began to wonder what Manford might be
packing under his wrestling trunks. It even crossed my mind to drag him back
to my locker room to find out.

But I managed to resist the urge. I ordered Manford to stand up. I snapped my
fingers and pointed towards the ring's ropes. I didn't have to say a word. He
knew what I wanted. Everyone in the arena knew what I wanted.

"Yes, ma'am," he said just before throwing himself over the top rope and
eliminating himself.

The crowd erupted into the longest sustained applause in professional
wrestling history because, me, a smokin' hot sexy girl won The 100 Man Battle
Royal.

Just like I told Frieda, I got paid. In fact, after having a little "talk"
with Vince, he agreed to pay me three times the originally agreed upon amount.
"We'll call it a bonus for winning," I explained.

After what almost happened with Manford, I was feeling extra randy. I rushed
home to fuck Wilbur only to find him already asleep.

After that I signed a book deal that included a five million dollar advance.
Since Wilbur fancied himself a writer I asked him to help me write my book. "I
can't; I'm working on my own important writing project." When I asked him what
it was, he told me that it was a definitive history of the Klingon Empyre.
(Yes, he spelled empire with a "y". Pretentious much?)

I pointed two things out to him. First, the Klingon empire can't have a
definitive history because it's fictional and thus subject to the needs and
the whims of whoever is writing the current story that features it. Second, he
didn't have the permission of the owners of Star Trek to write about their
property.

"You... you act like fan fiction isn't a legitimate art form!" he cried with
outrage. Then he accused me of never supporting him. Then he stood there like
he expected me to beg for his forgiveness followed by a midair titty job.

But not this time. Not. This. Time.

Instead I threw him out. He begged me to forgive him and take him back, but
every man I've ever broken up with has done that. I told him no.

I dated Manford for awhile, but he was too afraid to ever completely relax
around me. I even thought about going back to Bobby, but I've never been one
to move backwards.

Instead, I focused my energy on my book, The Story of a Ring Girl: Stronger
Than Any Man, which of course became a runaway best seller. Frieda arranged a
book tour. While I was signing copies of my book in Weehawken a shy young man
came up to me. As he handed me his copy of my book to sign I noticed his hand
was trembling.

He saw that I noticed so he gave me a timid smile and said, "I'm a little
nervous." I reached out and touched his hand with mine. His hand was warm to
the touch.

"Don't be," I said, "I'm just a normal, regular girl." Of course, this was a
great big lie. I'm awesome and special in almost every conceivable way, but I
was trying to get him to relax.

"Pardon me for contradicting you, ma'am, but no you're not. You're awesome and
special in almost every conceivable way."

I laughed, "I see that you really did read my book."

"Yes, ma'am! I'm currently on my fourth reading."

"What was your favorite part?" I asked.

"The part where you finally got rid of that loser Wilbur."

"So you thought Wilbur was a loser?"

"Yes, ma'am, if I was ever lucky enough to have a girlfriend as awesome and
special in almost every conceivable way like you, I'd threat her like a
goddess. I'd be happy just to be allowed to breathe the same air as her."

"You sound like a man who knows how to treat a woman," I said. His face
flushed. He looked so awkward and adorable. Plus, I could see that he was
sporting wood. I asked him if he'd like to have dinner with me later. While we
dined together I asked him if he was a virgin.

"Uh, yes," he replied.

"I'd like to take you back to my hotel room and fuck you tonight," I told him,
"But I have to warn you about something first."

"W-w-what?" he said in a trembling quiet little voice.

"After I fuck a man, they are never the same again. With my extreme beauty and
awesome super strength after fucking me no man can ever be satisfied with any
other woman. Being with me is just too awesome. So if we fuck tonight, you'll
never be happy with any other woman for the rest of your life. This is an
especially big risk with you since you've never been with another woman. Are
you willing to pay that price?"

"Y-y-yes. P-p-p-p-lease," he replied. I couldn't refuse such a polite request
so I took him back to my hotel room and then to a state of utter, perfect
bliss. Since then, we haven't spent a night apart.

Last week I moved to Weehawken so we could move in to together. He didn't lie.
He does worship me like a goddess just like I deserve to be. In return, I make
him a very, very happy devotee.

So, how did you like the ending?

And by the way, if you'd like to read more about Susie, Wilbur and Bobby,
check out the following stories on my bookshelf on Diana the Valkyrie:

Breaking Bobby

Bobby's Break Up

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

I'd enjoy reading your comments regarding these or any of my stories. Email
your comments to sonofjackwell@gmail.com

Also, don't forget that I write custom stories on commission. If you like the
way I write and you have an idea that you'd like to see turned into a story,
drop me an email.