WrestleMom Ch. 03

Her opponent, Melina, a dark-haired, flexible Latina, came out in a well-stacked sports-bra-type top and track pants. I saw her wear this attire once before and, to my amazement, she never wore it again, so I brought it back for this show, that and making the cameramen focus on her tight butt when she did her splits into the ring entrance.

When the bell rang, Eve jumped up, grabbed Melina by the back of her neck and pulled Melina on top of her. Eve had her legs wrapped around Melina, panting on the floor, while Melina lay on top, her face in Eve's supple breasts. They stayed in that position, wriggling around, dry-humping for a good three-to-four minutes. They traded the advantage, Melina on top, then Eve, sweaty mocha bodies rolling around, grunting and groaning. "Uhh! Ahhh! Huff, huff, huff": those beautiful sounds filled the arena. Eventually, after a good, long struggle, Eve won the match with a straight armbar.

The live audiences' reaction was subdued, which was to be expected. What really mattered was the ratings numbers. The next day I found out that the overall ratings had gone up; the women's segment added and retained a good number of people. I'd done my job well.

Next week, Alicia Fox, a frizzy-haired, sassy, tall, slender, light-skinned black woman, did an interview where she noted she'd been doing some jiu-jitsu training of her own and she was going to show the results of her training -- tonight. Out she came to the ring in a grey tank top and tiny shorts, those long legs looking so fine all bare and exposed. Her opponent was the aforementioned Kelly Kelly, wearing a shiny pink top and shorts. The match didn't last long; Alicia pulled Kelly on top of her, they wriggled for a bit, Alicia's long legs holding Kelly in the guard position. Then, at the six-minute mark, Alicia wrapped her legs around Kelly's head, encircling them around Kelly's neck, squeezing her legs hard, Alicia shoving Kelly's head down onto her vagina: this was the submission hold known as the triangle choke. Kelly tapped out right away.

"What a move! I think that's called a triangular choke!" said Cole.

"I don't care what's called," replied Lawler, "It was great! Yee!"

On the next show, Alicia was given another match, her opponent was Rosa Mendes. I had Rosa wearing a fiery red tank top, with the now-standard issue camel-toe exposing shorts. Alicia made quick work of Rosa, getting her locked in the triangle choke. Brief as the match was, this was not the end of Alicia's evening...

Backstage, viewers heard the pitter-patter of a running shower, the camera slowly panning down to show Eve in the steamy mist, soaking wet, her exposed back to the camera, soap running down her shoulders, teasing the viewers with tantalising glimpses of her bare behind. Eve was rubbing her hands through her hair when, suddenly, a towel-clad Alicia crept behind her.

"Oh honey ~"

Eve turned around in shock, putting her hands over her breasts.

Alicia played with Eve's auburn hair, smirking. "Baby, I just came to put you on notice: that championship is mine."

Eve glared. "Is that a fact?"

"Oh, it is... And, Eve, next time you see me...you'll still be wet." Alicia stepped away, the camera lingering on Eve's shinny wet body.

This was when the women's division really took off. Word had spread among the perverts of the world, the message being very inciting: WWE was presenting matches where hot women wore very little and did nothing but roll around with each other. Website views for the Diva matches were consistently in the top-five most-watched videos, in addition, YouTube views for the matches were through the roof. The new direction was working excellently.

On the Raw before the PPV, it was announced that Alicia would be challenging Eve for the Divas Championship. On that episode of Raw, Eve was in a non-title match with Maryse, a stunningly hot, golden-haired French-Canadian woman. Alicia was at ringside providing commentary.

On the floor, Maryse was on top, the two women locked in a position where their vaginas were touching, halfway grinding together in the scissor-sisters position. Both women were showing expressions of pained pleasure, not too much as to alert the censors, but enough to get eagle-eyed viewers paying close attention. Eventually, Eve stepped back, grabbed Maryse's leg and got her in a leglock. Eve then stepped outside and had a hot boob-to-boob staredown with Alicia, this the final image before Sunday's big title match.

I was very proud of the product I was putting out on screen, even if certain groups of people were outraged at the 'exploitation' of these women athletes. Some in the company also disapproved -- but that was before the Maryse/Eve match drew the highest quarter rating for the entire show. After that, I started getting a little more credit. Right around this time, word about Bruno Bocelli spread around: I saw my stage name in newsletters, websites, forums, all of them mentioning how I was the guy who turned the Divas division around.

Though, there were some hiccups, a couple minor incidents which didn't help my cause. These minor incidents took place in the WWE Stamford headquarters, a place where I'd spend most my time. For the most part, I stayed in my office and made little to no interaction with anybody but my dorky writer colleagues, but a few times I did leave my little dungeon area to confront the head of the website, Joey Styles. I'd made a list of things I wanted to see change on the website regarding the women. For one, I wanted the pictures to be in HQ (High-Quality). Go there right now and you'll see that the Diva pictures are all in tiny LQ. This is something perverts around the world have wanted for years and still the website has not implemented this change. When I asked Joey, he looked at me like I was a nerdy masturbator -- which I was, of course, but nerdy masturbators was one of their key demographics. These Joey-related incidents were just hiccups, apart from that everything was going great...almost everything.

***

There was someone else in the company who made it clear that they were not a fan of mine: Beth Phoenix. She'd been injured for a while and was pretty excited to be back -- but that was before she found out about the new character I created for her.

Let me give you a little background on Beth. Now Beth is hot, for sure, but not a typical hottie: she's a good-looking blonde woman that's also muscular, broad and emitted an aura of domination. She'd grown stale as the 'Glamazon,' (a poorly-defined persona, in my opinion), she needed a shake up, thus the creation of her new character: 'Brutal' Beth Phoenix! 'Brutal' Beth was a sexy leather-clad dominatrix that didn't take no for an answer. In the ring, Beth would manhandle the women in a 'special' way. Sure, she was to have some heavy lesbian undertones to her actions, but more of a prison lesbian vibe than anything. I think the straw that broke the camel's back was when she found out her catchphrase: "Spread 'em!" Suffice to say, she made it clear to all and any that she wasn't a happy glammy.

***

It was the day of Alicia and Eve's big PPV title match. My nerves were all over the place, in part to this being my first big show and, also, I knew Beth was in the arena. I sent my hatchet man Tim -- the guy who went to the women and told them my instructions -- to go find Beth and tell her all the ideas I had for her and to make sure he explained them in explicit detail. After he'd told Beth all that I had in store for her, I saw Tim, for the first time, look visibly distressed (and remember, this is the guy who told Eve and Maryse that they had to rub pussies.)

"Umm, Beth, Beth, yeah, she, yeah, she was pissed."

"Did you pitch it well?" I asked.

"Yeah, everything like you said...she hated it, she hated it. She thought I wrote it, I told her I didn't, I told her you did."

"You told her who I am? Fuck! Did you describe me and everything!?"

"Yeah, Bruno, I mean, if she has a problem, she should talk to you, right?"

"...Uhh, yeah, yeah."

I went about my business as usual, thinking Beth wouldn't find me in such a big arena. I shouldn't have underestimated her investigative skills. Near the back entrance, Beth locked eyes with me and paced over. I stepped back and got stuck in a corner, both of us in a secluded part of the building.

She got right in my face and with that icy stone-faced stare said, "You Bruno?"

"Umm, yeah."

"I wanna talk to you." Beth was wearing a long grey shirt and blue jeans. She stepped closer and got me right behind a wall.

"Sure, what's up?"

"You're that guy, the guy who made all the women wrestlers wear little tiny outfits and roll around the ring."

"Yeah, that's me." I'll admit, I was a tad intimidated. This woman did have pretty big arms and a menacing, killer aura. She smelled great, too.

"What's your problem? What's up with this direction? I heard you want me ass-raping the other girls? Come on! Are you a wrestler? I am, and a damn good one. I didn't work this hard to be demeaned like that."

Well, technically, she was an 'entertainer', not a wrestler, but that's a whole different issue.

"Umm, Beth, you see, it's about giving the viewers what they want --"

"Yeah, and they wanna see us wrestle."

"Well, no, they wanna see the guys wrestling. They wanna see you, umm, you Divas...exert your sexuality, you know, because that's why you're hired. I mean, why would the male demographics wanna see super-hot women do basic wrestling matches that are either bad or just okay? I mean, come on, where is the logic in that? This new style is more eye-catching and, and in-the-ring, it sets the girls apart. I know lots of people who enjoy the matches, and not just for the sex appeal aspect. Also, the injury risks are way down with this style, I mean, you should know how easy it is to get hurt, you're coming back from a pretty rough injury."

She kept staring, my mouth kept going.

"Don't you train? Workout? You should know how popular ground-fighting is, it's all the rage, yeah, and I know you're a good worker, so you can go out there and have pretty good matches. Plus, Beth, if you don't mind me saying, I think you're a damn fine-looking woman, you got such unique sex appeal, this style will only make you a bigger star, you can even get a cult following. It all works out so well, you'll never wanna wrestle a different style again, yeah..."

She stopped listening. Her murder stare had become a 'you're-going-in-the-boot-of-my-car' look. Beth stepped forward, her body inches away from mine.

"Listen: I did not bust my ass, working God-knows-where, breaking damn-near every bone in my body just so a little scrawny jerk-off like you can tell me what to do in a business he has no idea about!"

I was getting pretty turned on. Sure, she was trying to scare me, but damn, Beth Phoenix was right on me! Her boobs were pressing against my chest, how could I not get turned on?

"Umm, you know, Beth, this is good, I like this --"

"Shut up!" She slammed her hand against the wall, it inches away from my face. "I'm not fucking doing it, you got that?"

I tried to squirm away, but to no avail. Then, she felt it poking against her navel, rubbing against her like a hard block of wood.

"Hold on...are you...are you?...Motherfucker, you're hard!" she backed away in disgust, repulsed by my human emotion of arousal. "You're disgusting!"

"I'm sorry." I wasn't. "Hey, please don't tell anyone about this."

"Yuck, like I want to go around telling people I made a little dirtbag like you...argh! This is not the end of this." she stomped away in anger.

I won't lie, I beat one off right after this solicit encounter. After getting refocused, I went backstage to watch Alicia's pre-match interview (which I wrote).

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome my guest at this time: Alicia Fox," said interviewer Josh Matthews. Alicia came on screen wearing her tiny grey top and tiny shorts.

"Alicia, you've been winning your matches with the triangle choke, can you tell us how you have made this move so effective?"

She twirled her hair while she spoke: "Well, Josh, can you see this wonderful, full, glorious mane of hair I got on my head? All natural, sticks right up, curls up, springs up, down, just like a big...bush!" she giggled, paused, then carried on: "See, Josh, when I drive my opponents' heads down into my 'special' area, well, they're not going to a burnet out, foliage free runway, oh no, when I get girls locked in, they're going to a wonderful, vast, amazing forest of delight!" pause for the male cheers. "And when those girls are there, face-first, experiencing all the wonders, they simply can't take it, so they tap...out! And that's what's going to happen to you Eve, tonight!" and cue Alicia strutting away and back to the announcers.

"Cole, Cole! Did you hear what she just said? She doesn't...she's all natural! Eee!"

With that explanation done, it was time for the match. After a furious ground battle between challenger Alicia and champion Eve, Alicia was able to roll out of an armbar and latch on the triangle choke. The crowd, now knowing the secret of the move, cheered loudly.

"Oh my!" said Cole, "She can't breathe, she's gonna tap."

Eve struggled for around five seconds, but Alicia's bushy vaginal area proved to be too much: Eve slapped the mat to signal her tap out. Alicia grabbed the belt and jumped for joy, pert boobs shaking along in victory: we had a new Divas Champion!

After the post-show meeting -- ending around 3am -- I rode with the other writers to the hotel. Next morning, at 11am, we arrived in a nearby arena for Raw. During our writers' meeting, I told Vince about Beth's concerns, of course, leaving out the whole mildly erotic situation me and her had.

"Hmm, well," he pondered for a moment. "Well, if she doesn't like it, that's tough, this stuff you're booking is drawing big numbers."

"I agree, Vince, but if she doesn't wanna do it, I don't wanna force her or nothing, I mean, we can always trade her."

"Done," he said with a sip of his coffee, "We'll send her to SmackDown, she's not debuted, has she? No? Good, put her on Tuesdays, one of you let her know. Good? Okay, I wanna read a draft of the show in an hour."

During this meeting, I'd plotted out the next four weeks of Diva matches. Since the women were not booked for the next PPV, these matches were designed around putting over the superiority of the "all natural" Divas Champion, Alicia Fox. These matches had Alicia teaming with the delectable Bella Twins (their outfits: small leather bikinis, their cute little breasts looking so snug. Also, under orders, they did a lot more booty shaking before, during and after their matches.) Alicia got the winning submission in every match, putting over the "loaded' triangle finisher.

So, after this show was done, around 1am, you wouldn't believe who cornered me in a dark part of the building: Yup, the Brutal One, Beth. She caught me from out of the shadows, grabbed at my shirt and threw me hard against some steel rails. That hurt.

Beth stood face-to-face with me, her cheeks bright red, sweating, almost snarling.

"Hey, what the hell?" I said.

"What the hell!? You just cost me my fucking job!"

"What? No, no, you just switched shows."

"That's not what they told me! They told me to go home and wait it out. I might not even be on SmackDown! You know what happens to people who get lost in the shuffle?" she poked her finger on my chest. "Do you?"

"But we got a show for you --"

"Shut up! You have no fucking clue what kind of business you're in! I mean, who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

Being asked who I am was such a loaded question that I didn't formulate a response.

"I'm talking to you. Are you going to say something? Do I have to get you to talk?"

At that point I knew I had to act fast. I was only one step away from being the Glamazon's bitch, about to take every last inch of her giant dildo and gawd dammit Louis Torrile doesn't take it up the ass with metal instruments!

I stood up straight and got right in her face: "Yeah, Beth, I got something to say: you complain about being demeaned and humiliated and overly-sexualised, then tell me, Beth, why did you get those put in," I said as I pointed at her breasts, "if you wanted to be just a 'wrestler'? Hmm? And it may gross you out that I get turned on by you being so close to me, while, really, what you should be is happy, happy that you fucking get me hard, because I'm the guy booking all the women! And guess what? I masturbate over you, I have for years, alone in my room, and so do millions and millions of men across the world because they get turned on by you! And those guys jerking off to your muscles and tits are the same people that allow you to have this fucking job in the first place! So you should be happy that you get me hard, get it? You make me hard and I wanna make you money! How is that not a good deal for you? How!?"

Pinpoint the exact moment where coherent thought left my mind.

Beth responded with a red-hot slap to the face. I got into the cower-position while she paced back and forth. Instinctively, I squeezed my ass-cheeks, ready for her punishment. Instead she growled a loud roar, her body drenched in sweat and her face beetroot red. She gave me one final death-glare, then stormed off. I was saved.

I decided right then that it would be for the best if I didn't attend anymore of the shows. I was exposed; one of the female wrestlers knew my face, which meant if Beth came back, all the other women would know which sexist "ruined them". There was no need for me to be at the shows anyway, I was only there for meetings which didn't have anything to do with me, since I was booking the women's stuff independently. Plus, there was also the huge issue with my mom coming to the shows; I couldn't risk her seeing my face. I decided to speak with Vince about this, but knowing how against he was to any suggestion that goes against the norm, I didn't have high expectations.

I spotted him alone, right before he was going into his limo. He saw me first and grinned.

"Jesus Christ, have you seen the quarters we've drawn for these women segments? You're doing a hellva job, kid."

"Thanks, Sir...Sir, I was wondering if I could, umm, do all my writing work from Stamford?"

"Hmm well, that's highly unusual."

"Yeah, but, you know," I whispered, "my mom and all."

"Oh right, right, hmm, well you do book it on your own...Okay, done, do all your shows from there, then send them to Tim and the other writer people."

Success! "Thank you so much, Sir."

"Hey, just keep drawing those numbers. Hell, if they get any higher, I might get you to book the whole product," he said with a chuckle. Right before he left, I peeked into the limo and saw Vince's son-in-law Triple H giving me a nasty glare while Vince's daughter Stephanie shook her head in disbelief.

"Really, Dad?" I heard her say in that nasally voice.

"When did that jerk-off kid start calling the shots?" said future owner Triple H. That was the last thing I heard after the door was shut. Thankfully, the two future heirs to the company were overruled and I was allowed to work right out of WWE headquarters. Luck had come my way yet again!

***

On TV, Alicia and her bushy bush triangle choke were dominating everyone. During that same time period, my mom's reintroduction vignettes were aired. When I got to Stamford, I saw the completed vignettes...then watched them again, and again, and again, and again at my apartment and then later watched them again....let's just say that my expenditure on tissues increased tenfold due to these vignettes. They went like this:

First vignette:

On a sunny day in suburbia, an angry man stands outside a house, slamming his fist on the door.