Standing in the center of the wrestling ring with a glittering gold belt slung over his shoulder the world champion cuts the promo of his life. Suddenly, the number one contender’s music interrupts him and out comes the Challenger to an ovation of boos. He basks in the hate and vitriol for a moment until his music fades out. “At the next pay per view,” The challenger says into his own microphone, “I will take that belt!”
“You want my belt?” Champion says incredulously, sliding the championship from his shoulder he holds the prestigious prize above his head for all to see.
“Yeah I want your belt.” Challenger stalks down the ramp toward the ring.
“Why do you want my pants to fall down?” Champion askes.
Challenger scoffs, “What? No, not that belt. What are you, stupid?”
“You want my pants to fall down?” Champion repeats, “Because you want me undressed?”
Challenger stairs at him confused, “No that’s not-”
“Why do you want to suck my dick so bad?”
“I do not!”
The champion looks a little hurt at this, “Well why not?”
“I- I- No! No stop.” The challenger no longer seems amused as he climbs the ring apron and through the ropes, “At the payperview I’m coming for your title!”
“You’re going to come?!” The champion retorts.
“Stop playing games!!” He screams into the mic, “You know what I mean! At the pay per view I will…” For a moment the challenger’s confidence seems to falter, “I will…beat… no… I will… win?”
“Yeah?” The champion asks with an incline of his head, “And how will you win?”
“With my signature submission hold I'm famous for.” Challenger says cautiously, realizing his mistake a moment too late.
The champion smirks, turning toward the hard cam with a raise of an eyebrow, “Yeah I know you'll try that,” he says as the crowd begins to sense where this is going, “You dirty dirty boy! You want me to submit to you. Yeah? You like that?” The champion steps closer to the flustered number one contender, “But the thing is, Challenger, at the pay-per-view you will be the one pinned under me…” The champion licks his lips slowly, “One.” he whispers into the mic, “Two.” he inches closer to his future opponent, “Three.”
Standing so close their foreheads touch, the crowd cheers their approval. Not wanting to look weak, the challenger does not break eye contact. When he speaks the in ring camera mic picks it up for the views at home, “Dude.” he says, “Why do you have to make this so sexual?”
The champion smiles and steps back with a confident swagger, “Because this is professional wrestling!” he says proudly, slinging the belt back over his shoulder, “And it ain’t wrestling if it ain’t overtly homoerotic!” Dropping the mic to bounce off the canvas, the champion’s music plays triumphantly. He steps through the ring ropes and raises his belt again to a thunderous applause, standing ovation, and signs with his name on them dotting the arena. He leaves the changer standing center ring wide-eyed and strangely aroused.
“Things are really heating up,” says the commentator, “At the pay per view there won't be a dry seat in the house. Coming up in our main event tonight, in tag team action: The Sexual Tention Express takes on Leather-Daddy-Mullet and Bisexual Beefcake. We’ll be right back!”
