Austin Cooper: 5'9, 175 lbs
Drake grimaces in pain, writhing as big quads crush his trim core in a bodyscissors
Drake gets hoisted and arched, bent backwards in a crippling hangman variation
Austin poses and preens victoriously as he grinds his pink-clad jobber underfoot
Hefted around the mats lifelessly, Drake is draped in a fireman's carry
A demolished Drake gets dropped and bent in an over the knee backbreaker
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Sticking Your Fingers Where They Don't Belong
"You're looking a little scared," Austin Cooper says to Drake Marcos when they meet on the mats. Of course, Drake is scared. Austin is one of the most seasoned and successful wrestlers in the business. The popular muscle hunk is devastating anywhere and everywhere, in any style of wrestling, against any opponent. Austin's fan-favorite physique is perpetually perfect, equipping him with an arsenal of sensationally sculpted muscles and limitless stamina. Austin hurts big, big boys bad, and he enjoys doing it.
Drake, on the other hand, is a multiple "Jobber of the Year" award winner. He has shown up for this late night mat contest in the best shape of his life, but let's be honest, he's dwarfed in the shadow of Austin's peaked biceps and massive pecs. On his best days, Drake is his own worst enemy. Even when he builds up some momentum in a match with his impressive array of submission holds, Drake notoriously chokes in a clutch, bested more so by his own not-so-secret pleasure at taking a beating. Drake soaks up punishment like a parched desert, and he enjoys doing it. But even Drake, with his profound appreciation for getting crushed at the hands of a hotly muscled opponent, is visibly intimidated by the challenge facing him tonight.
A cell phone goes off, interrupting the start of the match. "Oh, damn, just give me one second," Austin says, digging his phone out of his duffle bag. "Hey, what's up man," Austin asks the caller, turning his back on Drake to take the call. "Yeah, yeah, I'm about to beat some guy's ass, but this shouldn't take long." As Austin makes plans to meet up with a buddy for drinks after the match, "probably in about 5 minutes," Drake's eyes lock onto the alluring treasure trove of gear inside Austin's open bag. "Yeah, we've definitely got to celebrate," Austin says. "I'll give you a call." As he hangs up, he turns around to find Drake pulling on one of Austin's knee pads.
"What the fuck are you doing, bro," Austin snaps angrily. He yanks the knee pad off of Drake and proceeds to tug it onto his own huge legs. "These aren't for you. These are for kicking your ass!" Drake's embarrassed apologies are abruptly silenced by Austin driving his padded knees repeatedly into his larcenous opponent's sternum. "I see that pain on your face," Austin smiles as he snaps his tree trunk thighs shut around his opponent's ultra lean torso and squeezes. The muscle hunk wrings him out hard, rolling Drake out across the mat and flexing his colossal quads relentlessly. But even wracked in agony, eating the mat seasoned by his own tears, Drake refuses Austin's demands that he submit.
Everything that Austin throws at him threatens to rip Drake apart at the seams, but riding the very edge of oblivion, the tenacious lightweight denies him the satisfaction of a quick submission. Wrapped over his legs in a suspended bow-and-arrow, Drake screams, but won't submit. Pounding him down repeatedly in over-the-knee backbreakers, Austin nearly snaps him in half. Drake sucks down the agony with screams, but no submissions. "Fuck, I've got to text my buddy Tom to tell him that I'm going to be a little bit later now."
After sending his drinking buddy a frustrated text, Austin doubles down on pounding the fight out his opponent. Boston crabs and camel clutches continue to bruise Drake's throbbing spine. The barefoot muscle hunk tramples the jobber, digging his heels and his full bodyweight down into the lightweight's core. Drake's legendary capacity to soak up punishment eventually crumbles, and his pleading, begging submissions begin flowing as he's hung out to dry in a torture rack. But Austin doesn't care anymore. Even when his phone signals another text from his buddy, Austin ignores it. The satisfying tones of pathetic suffering are music to his ears, and he wants more. Barefisted punches and interminable bearhugs break Drake, body and soul. When the thief tries to crawl to the exit, Austin drags him back with a sadistic smile for another round of corporal punishment. Jabbing a finger in his face, Austin screams, "Don't touch my kneepads ever again!"
Drake learns a hard lesson about daring to step on the mat with the likes of Austin Cooper, and even worse, helping himself to gear that doesn't belong to him. Much of this match will likely be a hazy blur to Drake, driven in agony over the brink of unconsciousness again and again. But he'll have Austin's photos of his complete humiliation waiting for him in his texts in the morning. "Yeah, I'm done here," Austin says when he rings up his buddy. "I'll be there in a minute. I'm going to send you some pictures of what I've been up to. Just don't laugh too hard."
Coop writhes, surprisingly struggling under the lighter Drake as he pins him to the mat
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Drake gets carted around the mats, stretched and draped across Coop's shoulders in a torture rack
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Drake tries to push up, crawling on the mat as his exposed back is brutally battered
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Austin leans back, breaking the back of his jobber with a brutal boston crab
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Drake hangs lifelessly in Austin's arms as he's dominantly carried around the mats
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Drake's back is nearly snapped in half as he's yanked back in a vicious camel clutch
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Drake Marcos: 5'10, 155 lbs
Drake gasps and claws weakly at the mat as the fight is squeezed from him in a bodyscissors
Drake grovels at the feet of the muscular heel as he's dragged up for more torture
A bubble-butted Austin Cooper hoists his lifeless victim in a rib-crushing bearhug
Drake cries to the heavens in agony, his ribs brutally crushed in a grueling bodyscissors
All in a day's work, Cooper tramples and walks across the body of yet another broken foe
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