Brutus Beefcake Goes To Hell
You didn't expect to go out this way. But, of course nobody ever really does. Of course, it's difficult to escape the wrestling curse. You either die far too young or far too senile. It's almost a guarantee that your last few years will be spent suffering and rotting away slowly. And yet, you thought that somehow the curse would avoid you. That you were somehow different, somehow special.
What will happen when you get to St. Peter's heavenly gate? Will he allow you into the Lord's kingdom or will he simply spit in your face and send you on your way. In your mind, you believed that you were a good guy. Sure, you had made a few mistakes in your life – but who hadn't? You knew that you had things to answer for, the drugs, the booze, the steroids, and of course... that anthrax accident. God damn, it always came back to having to explain the anthrax accident. You were just another wrestler who partied heavily and struggled to overcome your addictions. And in most ways, that was your final straw, your coming-to-God moment. You finally saw the universe for what it was and God's light had finally penetrated your soul. You were born once again as one of God's children.
You had done your best to be a good person, a good friend, a good husband, and a good father. Some of your closest wrestling associates considered you not only a good friend, but also a brother. From Hogan to Finkel, to Jimmy Hart – all of them had been integral to some of your finest moments in life. Your first relationship failed, but as with most things in life, you continued to do your best. On your second marriage to Barbara, you got things right. It was here that you became who you would always be first and foremost, a father. Nobody could ever deny that everything you did, in its own way and style, was for your daughter, Alana. Poor Barbara...poor Alana.
The wrestling curse comes slowly. It starts with a twinge in your arm, a crick in your knees, an issue in your shoulder. After awhile, it creeps up even more. Your mind and facilities start to vanquish. You become accustomed to the pain, you become content with the pain. You stop noticing the things that others would.. a spasm in the body, slurring of the words, heavy breathing, etc. Finally, others start to become numb to noticing these issues too; they've given up on alerting you that things are getting worse, that your health is suffering, and that nobody is going to be surprised when you don't wake up one day. It'll happen sooner rather than later for all of us...
How long have you been diminishing without even the knowledge of doing so? Your health the last few months had been decent. You were getting up well-rested, your diet had improved, your drinking had been minimized – and yet, it was too little too late. You spent your final day with a nice lunch with your daughter before spending your final evening watching television with your wife Barbara. Barbara went to bed around eleven pm that night and you made sure to give her a goodnight kiss as you had done for the previous twenty-one years. You had no clue that this would be the last time that you would ever see your lovely wife. You had simply expected to continue watching television for another hour before hitting the hay and sleeping soundly. You got up from your recliner and turned off your television for the final time at 12:11 pm.
Two hours later, you woke up to use the restroom. Nothing seemed too out of the normal, and yet before you knew it – the room started to spin as things went dark and then light and then dark once again. Your head was spinning and this scene continued to play out. Your ears started to ring louder and louder, before finally exploding in an enormous erupting sound. And then again – just like with your eyes, the sound came in and finally went out - completely out. Everything was dark, everything was silent, and that's when you felt the ultimate rush. You felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria, you felt weightless, you felt more content than you had ever before. You were no longer in any pain – and then you saw the light. It was the brightest light that you had ever seen. The light continued to increase as you felt yourself lifting towards the skies.
The following morning your wife woke up and noticed that you were missing. She had assumed that like normal, you had just fallen asleep in your recliner. However, when she went out to the living room- she noticed that this wasn't the case. Perhaps, you had gotten up early and went to visit the gym. She knew that every once in awhile – you and Hogan got together to still work out. Occasionally, Barbara had lamented that you were still working out at your age, but she relented to your desires. She always was a good woman and partner. She didn't deserve to see what she was about to see... then again, nobody ever deserves to find a loved one like that.
Barbara normally didn't like to talk to Hogan, she knew that her husband liked having his free space and alone time. However, she had a gut-wrenching feeling that something about today wasn't right.. that today was somehow different. She grabbed her phone and dialed Hogan.
The phone rang once, twice, three times – no answer.
She called back and listened to the phone ring loudly time after time. Still, there was no answer. She knew that Hulk was up, he was always up by now. She began to get increasingly nervous.. perhaps something had gone wrong, perhaps with Hulk or perhaps with her husband. Maybe, they had gotten into a car wreck or maybe some kind of terrible accident had occurred while they were working out. Perhaps, today was the day that her husband had finally exerted himself too much during a workout.
Little did she know that this had taken place just a few hours earlier.
On her third attempt to call Hogan, he finally answered his phone in his rough and boisterous voice -
“Beefcake, what the hell are you doin brotha – Why the hell are you callin me this early. We aren't working out today brotha.”
“Terry, can you repeat what you just said? Did you say that Edward is.. oh god, is Edward not with you?”
“Barbie – is that you? I haven't seen Beefy or heard from him in a couple days. I've been busy making other appearances recently. You know how it's been the last few months, trying to rehab my image and everything. I've been absolutely swamped and we haven't had the time to work out in awhile. Is there.. something wrong?”
“Oh Terry... I haven't been able to find Eddy anywhere today and I just have the worse feeling about that. The last time I saw him was last night... he seemed perfectly fine before I went to bed..”
“I'm sure things will be fine brotha, knowing Beefcake he is probably just dicking off somewhere around the house. Ya know how he is Barbara – always tinkering with this and that. Did you look everywhere in the house already?”
“I have only checked the living room, the only spot I've found him in lately is that god damn recliner of his. Always just sitting in that recliner, watching hours upon hours of wrestling on the television. Always watching the WWE Network. I swear if I didn't know any better, I would think that he is trying to relive his glory years once again. Hell, with the way he has been taking care of himself lately... it wouldn't even surprise me if he was thinking about getting back in the ring again.”
“Barb, brotha, it's been fifteen years.. there's no way that is what Ed- … “
With that - Hulk's voice was cut off by a shriek. A panicked-stricken and obviously disturbed Barbara quickly got back on the phone, her voice trembling: “Hulk – I think it's bad... I just noticed that not only is the bathroom light still on, but the sink appears to still be running also.. in fact, I can see a huge puddle starting to form on my floor.”
“I'll be there as soon as I can Barbara, wait for me please. You don't want to do this alone.”
Within ten minutes – Barbara heard a loud blaring noise outside. It was a loud customized car horn blaring throughout the neighborhood and she immediately knew that it had to be Hogan. He blared his custom horn again and a loud “Brotha” was heard. Barbara briefly laughed, as this momentary reprieve was comforting. After all, Hogan had always been about flash and substance and Barbara had long grown accustomed to Terry's proclivities. She was never surprised that he would have a custom car horn or that he would roll up to her house in a red and yellow convertible. But what she was surprised with was the look and expression on Terry's face.. he looked absolutely panicked.
Barbara tried lightening up the situation as she joked - “Terry, what's wrong with you? I've never seen you with such a ghastly expression on your face, in fact you look extremely pale... almost like a ghost and I don't think that I've ever seen you without a bandanna. Now you are really frightening me.. T-Terry.”
“I've seen this shit Barbara, far far too many times. And yet it never gets easier. The god damn curse of this industry. I have to tell you Barbara, what is in that bathroom is not going to be pretty. Are you sure that you can handle this? It's not good.”
Her voice began to break as she was flooded with a sense of overwhelming sadness. She finally managed to tremble out.. “N-n-no Terry, I-I am not r-r-r-ready but I'm likely never going to be. And we have to know what happened.”
The two then walked through the house and proceeded through the kitchen towards the bathroom. As they got within a few feet of the bathroom door, they began to trounce through puddles of water. The sink must have been running for hours now. Now, just a mere few steps from the door Hogan once again turned to Barbara and he asked her if she was ready. She boldly stated that she had to be. As they peeked in the door... it was as they confirmed.
Something tragic had happened in the night. Something that would effect both of their lives. Brutus Beefcake was laying on the floor with his mouth agape and his eyelids closed. His body was completely passive; it was obvious that no breath was being expelled anymore. The man who had entertained so many people for so many years would no longer be entertaining anyone.
Edward “Brutus The Beefcake” Leslie was dead at age 58. Dead in his own bathroom and discovered by his wife and his best friend. Nobody deserves to go out this way, but we all do. The wrestling curse comes for us and strikes us all down. We never even see it coming.
A few hours had passed in the Leslie household, as the news began to spread to family members and friends. People had begun gathering already and paying their respects to the man who was known as the Beefcake. If it wasn't under these circumstances that the people were gathering, the gathering could almost be called pleasant. Many wrestlers and friends had gathered including Howard Finkel, Brian Knobbs, and Jimmy Hart.
The coroner finally confirmed what we had all expected. That night, when Beefcake was using the bathroom, his heart had finally given out. He officially died of a heart attack at 2:24 am on October 7th, 2015. In his bathroom, on the floor.
His body continued to float throughout the atmosphere. It soared higher - before it finally came to a screeching halt. Just then, Brutus heard a loud crashing sound and noticed a white light coming from above. Suddenly he saw a gigantic man with a long-flowing beard. His voice boomed out:
“Edward Leslie – I am Saint Peter.”
“Sa-Saint Peter? But aren't we suppose to meet each other at the pearly gates of Heaven? Wasn't this what the bible foretold of? One final judgment right outside of God's kingdom...”
“We promised something similar, but don't accept everything that you read in the bible. We've decided to streamline things – what kind of company did you expect us to be? Even in God's kingdom we are always adapting to changing climates...”
Brutus stared at the bearded man with a blank look on his face. He was utterly confused and incredibly shocked. His vast feelings of euphoria had suddenly vanished; they were replaced with trepidation. Finally, Beefcake found the courage to speak out:
“But Peter, I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I have done my best I could with my li- “
“SILENCE” - Peter let out in a booming voice. He continued: “I met you at purgatory for a reason. You didn't make the cut. It was too little, too late – goodbye Edward.”
Instantly he began to free fall – completely overwhelmed - as everything became a blur. And then a sizzle, an instant blood-curdling sizzle, and then it felt like his complete body was on fire. Yes, he was sure of it now. He was burning for the rest of eternity. He was now trapped in Satan's fire pits of Hell. This is the end of Brutus the Barber Beefcake for sure. Through all of eternity, he would remain trapped in hell.
He tried to compose himself. He didn't know what was next – he tried to get use to the flames. As much as you can get use to the flames. He briefly started to tear up and he released that even his tears were now nothing more than droplets of fire. He panicked, he laughed, he stood there silent – unsure of what would happen next.
He then thought back to some of the parables that he remembered from his bible. Parables that told of the many ways one would suffer in Hell. He specifically recalled 2 Thessalonians 1:9 which read:
“They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power.”
Damn. That's the only word his mind kept circling back to. Damn it. He began to slowly wander what kinds of tortures would be coming his way. He wouldn't have to wait very long to find out. Another loud booming noise was heard and a large goat-looking man soon appeared. He carried his trademark pitchfork with him. The Barber knew that he was now facing the Devil. His most difficult opponent ever. Brutus thought to himself that if maybe, just maybe he showed enough courage and braveness Satan would be slightly easier on him.
Beefcake began to cut the promo of his life right there in front of ole Beelzebub himself. He began in his biggest and most booming voice he could:
“Satan, I know not what I've done to live in this god damn place and I frankly don't give a damn. If I am going to suffer in this forsaken place for the rest of my life then I'm at least going to do it my own way. If you ask me, you are just another son of a bitch. Well listen, I've faced tons of SOBs in my life – so if you think you are just going to have your way with me, then I have some news for you.”
Satan merely laughs. In fact, he is so amused by it he merely responds: “Listen Edward, you can give whatever impassioned speech you want – in fact, I enjoyed that nice one that you just gave. I've always been a fan of yours. But, if you think that you have any control of stopping me from having my way with you don't be mistaken. And yet... you are in luck. I'm in a very festive little mood this time of the year. That's why I will give you only one opportunity to escape from Hell and return to Purgatory. However, I warn you that you will not like it.”
“I don't care what is is. I'll do anything!” - Beefcake responded with desperation in his voice.
“That's what they all say, don't they?” - Satan began once again chuckling. “And I bet when I tell you the next part – you will be doubly as excited. Sure, keep thinking that.”
“Excited?” - Beefcake questions the Devil.
“You will be having sex... “ - Satan states calmly.
“Sex? I'm going to be having sex. That doesn't seem so bad. After all, hell I didn't even know we could still have sex in the afterlife. So who exactly will I be having sex with?”
Once again, the Devil merely laughs. He hesitates before speaking again. He wants to make the Beefcake uncomfortable for awhile. After a good three or four minutes has passed, he clears his throat loudly: “That's for me to know and you to find out soon. However, shall you refuse any one of my choices – you should know that your refusal will also condemn that person to joining me for the rest of Eternity in Hell.”
The Devil then vanished and Beefcake was left there standing all alone. His mind grew frantic. He thought long and hard about all of the people that the Devil might choose. It could be absolutely anybody. It could be Vince McMahon or Adolf Hitler or a complete nobody. Somebody that he had never even met, he briefly smiled at this idea. He knew that this would be preferred, however, he knew that he couldn't heed Satan's warning. He knew that the sex wouldn't be with anybody he would ever want to have sex with.
He didn't have to wait much longer. As he continued to walk through the flames of Hell, he noticed a strange park bench with a man sitting on it. From far away, Beefcake thought that he could recognize the silhouette of the man. The bench was blazing with flames and yet that man sat there perfectly content and with a jovial smile on his face. He was a paunchy, wide man dressed in his signature black tuxedo. This man was the WWE's signature ring announcer for nearly twenty years and one of Brutus' best friends. It was of course Howard Finkel.
Beefcake once again began crying, before he remembered that even his tears were flames. He ran up to Howard and gave him a huge hug. Howard quickly and without hesitation hugged him back... and then a little bit more. Howard's hands instantly slid down to grab the ass of Beefcake.
“Howard! What the hell do you think that you are doing? Damn it man – we're friends”
Howard laughed maniacally. He then continued to aggressively kiss Brutus – on his neck, on his lips, on his chest – all while keeping his hands firmly planted on Beefcake's luscious ass. He forced his tongue in deep. And for just a second – Beefcake's mind turned to mush. He tried to just go with it.
He couldn't though. Not yet anyway. So he shoved Howard who crashed roughly into the red hot bench. Howard wasn't phased in the slightest. He laughed again maniacally and merely sent a scolding look towards Beefcake. He walked back over and shoved Beefcake towards the ground. He sat on him straddling his body and using his weight as an advantage. The Beefcake began to get scared... and he managed to let out a pitiful, but light whimper:
“Howard, why would you do this? I thought we were...”
“SHUT UP. DON'T YOU SEE THAT I HAVE NO CONTROL HERE? YOU HAVE NO CONTROL HERE. NONE OF US HAVE CONTROL HERE, EXCEPT THE DARK ONE. THE DARK LORD.”
“That's not true... we can all make our decisions.” - Beefcake continued to try to plead.
“No, we can't. Satan always gets what he wants. And he wants me to make you suffer. And so you will.”
Beefcake knew that there was nothing that he could do anymore. His only trick was to go somewhere else mentally. To escape. And if worse comes to worse, he'd at the very least get his nut off. It couldn't be all that bad could it? After all – it wasn't the first time he had experimented with one of the boys.
Howard could wait no longer. He walked back over to the fiery park bench and ordered the Beefcake to remove his pants. Brutus did as he was instructed as he slowly unzipped the tuxedo pants. As his pants came off, a short pasty dick was flapping in the wind. The Beefcake couldn't help but think to himself - “of course, it's always the guys with small dicks that decide to free ball.” Howard coughed loudly to signify that he now wanted something else to be done. The Beefcake slowly ran his hands up along the outside of Finkel's thighs, rubbing them ever so slow and tenderly. He began to rub them in large wide circles. He thought he noticed some blood begin to flow as Howard's pasty penis began to flap. He thought that Howard had to be getting hard – but it was also hard to tell. Poor Howard Finkel's penis was nothing to write home about. Not in the least. It could barely be classified as more than a microdong and on even the best of days it barely could be classified as average. Howard didn't care though – he had a greed in his eyes. A greed that had never been seen before. The devil's lust had truly consumed him.
He grunted with frustration and bellowed loudly: “Come the fuck on! Blow me already Eddie.”
Brutus looked at him – he was about to speak and tell Howard that he wasn't sure how to work with such a small dick, but he relented. He knew that no matter what he wasn't going to be able to escape his predicament. He decided that he was going to do the only thing he could possibly do. He dropped to his knees and quickly wrapped as much of his mouth as he could around Howard's penis. He knew that if he got Howard off quickly – maybe that would be it. Maybe that would be enough. So he worked with determination as he moved his mouth up and down the five inch mast that Howard had managed to get up. Howard groaned loudly and deeply. He placed his hands on the back of Beefcake's head and pushed him down further onto his penis. He demanded that the Beefcake get sloppier... he demanded to hear the Beefcake's every slurp and gag.
Edward continued slurping along the shaft of Howard's penis. He slurped and he slurped and he slurped some more. Damn. Edward was surprised by the amount of endurance that Howard had. The Beefcake had always expected that Howard would be pathetic in the bedroom, but just then – another sense of panic came into his mind. Perhaps he had made a completely wrong accusation of Howard, or perhaps the Devil was playing a trick on him. Maybe, the Devil had granted Howard some kind of magical boner and this is the blow job that would go on for hours.. for days.. or for months. Maybe even longer.
God damn it, he hoped that this wasn't the situation. However, he knew that the Devil wasn't about to play fair. He briefly remembered something his wife had taught him, something that his wife had shown him. Something that always managed to make his dick explode when nothing else would. He knew the answer out of this puzzle now – he would use Barbara's secret blow job technique.
He once again licked up and down the shaft of Howard. But then – as he got near the top he began frantically flicking his tongue at the head of the penis. He flicked aggressively, flick after flick, after flick. And then he noticed a slight tremble in Howard's legs as they began to get shaky. He continued flicking away at the head. Flick, flick, flick, flicccck. He alternated the speed of his flicking tongue making sure to hit a different spot of the penis each time. Finally – he heard Howard let out a loud guttural growl and then he felt it. A massive explosion of cum landed on Beefcake's face. It felt burning hot on his face. Even the jizz burned in Hell.
He looked up at Howard who announced: “Ladies and gentleman, your new blow job champion of the Netherworld – BRUTUS THE BARBER BEEFCAKE.” As his words completed, he simply turned to ash. Once again, Brutus the Beefcake was alone.
One done, two to go. This isn't going to be so bad he began to think to himself. Sure, he didn't expect to ever in his lifetime and especially in his eternal lifetime, have sex with Howard Finkel – but it wasn't so bad. It was at the very least quick..
In the back of his mind, he was still filled with tons of doubt. He couldn't help but feel that the Devil would come through on his promise. That the Devil really would make this just as horrible as he promised. Fuck, how was he going to do that? Could there really be something worse than giving a blow job to Howard Finkel?
He soon got his answer. The very next people he came across in Hell were Jimmy Hart and Brian Knobbs. Oh Jesus Christ – when I thought it couldn't get worse. The fucking Devil himself. Well, maybe he wasn't actually the Devil but Jimmy Hart definitely has some kind of demon spirit in him to remain looking as young as he has for so long. Beefcake tries to collect his thoughts. He can't believe that he had to fool around with an old fat guy first, and now does he have to fool around with an even older guy and an even fatter guy? Is Satan some kind of weird chubby chaser? He must be some kind of old and fat fetishist. He also couldn't possibly believe that he was going to have to perform any kind of sexual act.. much less actually touch somebody who willingly referred to themselves as a Nasty Boy.
Knobbs was the first to approach him. He merely walked up behind Brutus and licked the nape of his neck.
Jimmy Hart exclaimed “Whoa whoa whoa Knobbs – chill out a bit. We've got him for as long as we like. We don't have to rush this... oh no we don't baby! I want to enjoy every moment of this!. Beefy baby, you look mighty scrumptious. I will say that being in Hell and surrounded by this fire is really doing something for ya!”
Knobbs continues to just sit there looking at the two men. He lets Jimmy continue to talk.
“So as I was sayin', we're gonna have a good ole' time with you Beefy. A real real good time.”
Growing weary Brutus blurts out, “So what the fuck do you sick bastards have in mind? I've already had to stick Howard Finkel's dick in my mouth today. It can't get that much worse.”
The two other men laugh loudly. Hart continues, “Well – first of all, you don't have to do a god damn thing. Simply just sit there and watch me and Knobbs. Watch as Brian humbles my ass. Let him show you how he earned the reputation as a truly Nasty Boy. You – Beefcake, just watch as Knobbs wrecks my ass with his huge penis.”
Beefcake lets out a loud groan, before he states: “Fine, that doesn't seem too bad. I mean – neither of you are particularly good looking, but I've watched man-on-man porn before... some of it was just as ugly. I can handle this.”
Hart turns to him: “Patience baby, we'll get going soon enough. I just have to ask Knobbs one thing – Knobbsy, when was the last time you took a shower anyway? It looks like it's been forever.”
Knobbs merely shrugs his shoulders, before replying: “It's been.. longer than I can remember. More than a month at least. Who really cares about that stuff, you know? Doesn't matter to me.”
“Doesn't matter to me either baby, but some of us might be a bit squeamish at that thought. A bit squeamish at the thought of such a dirty dick entering them. And oh, how can that dick get even dirtier? Come on Brian, stick that disgusting dick in me. Let's see if we can make Beefcake over there... squeamish. Let's see if we can make his stomach ache.”
If you expected much patience from Brian Knobbs – you would have expected far too much. This Nasty Boy instantly removed all of his clothes to reveal his surprisingly large penis. It was a good 7.5 inches at least. He quickly approached the Mouth of the South and removed his pants as well as his tighty whiteys. You could tell that this wasn't the first time these two had engaged in this act. No, everything about this seemed like a well-rehearsed ballet. The Nasty Boy and The Mouth of the South had likely been engaging in continual anal sex for many years Then, it should come as no surprised that the two barely even wasted anytime on any kind of foreplay. Knobbs simply inserted one of his large sausage-like fingers into Jimmy Hart's tight brown hole. Jimmy doesn't even change his expression in anyway (though with his shades still on, who would really know). Knobbs continued to poke and prod his beefy fingers in and out of Jimmy Hart's puckering asshole.
Jimmy moans slightly as Brian continues to work him. It doesn't take long though before Hart's surprisingly loose asshole is wide enough. Wide enough for him to finally take in the quite dirty and quite filthy dick of Knobbs. Knobbs thrusts in and Jimmy lets out a slight whimper. Knobbs again, impatiently, starts to thrust his way in deeper and deeper. Luckily, Jimmy Hart has no problem handling all seven and a half inches of Brian Knobbs. The Mouth of the South's back hole is extremely accommodating of both the girth and length of the Nasty Boy's pecker. Jimmy again groans loudly as Knobbs continues to frantically drive his dick deep in and out of Hart.
“Whoa baby, Oooh, damn Brian. I love how you work that filthy dick. And what about you Beefy – are you enjoying our dirty show? How do you feel about watching Brian drill my ass deeply with his filthy cock? What's that? Is it making you squeamish.. or perhaps - are you enjoying it? What do you say Brian? Do you think he is enjoying the show.”
“Who gives a fuck... I'm fucking dying in here. I am absolutely soaking in sweat. It's so god damn hot in Hell. Can't you feel me dripping my sweat all over your body? But then again – you do still have on that jacket. How the hell does this heat not affect you Jimmy? Oh fuck it who cares – I absolutely love the way your hips swivel as my cock pounds ever deeper into your ass. And if you want to make this boy squeamish then you can tell him about how there must be gallons of my ball sweat leaking into every inch of your ass..” - Knobbs says.
“So boy, are you getting squeamish?.”
“Not yet – in fact, the show so far hasn't even bothered me. In fact, I'm even enjoying it slightly,” Beefcake answers.
“We'll have to try harder then. Brian, I know what will really make him squeamish. I want you to cum deep into my ass. I want you to shoot your load up into me as deeply as you can. And then – well that's when part two of this begins...”
Fuck. There's a part two – of course there's a part two.
The Nasty Boy quickly follows Hart's command. He was already nearing the point of orgasm before and Hell's heat was beginning to take a terrible strain on him. He knew that he could barely take anymore and that he was about to collapse at any point. Knobbs gave his last few strokes all of his might and all of his power before quickly letting out the loudest groan. He erupted and sprayed his load deep inside Jimmy's ass. After his load was spent and briefly before he collapsed, he yelled over to Beefcake.
“Get your ass over there immediately and eat my cum out of Jimmy's ass. Don't let a single fucking drop spill anywhere on the ground.” As he finished his statement, he collapsed to the ground and vanished into ash.
“You heard him boy, suck my ass. I want you to taste all of that filthy ass stew that Brian and I just got done making. And then I want you to continue boy, they don't call me the Mouth of the South for a reason. Not only do I love to talk a lot, but I also love for my southern mouth – my asshole – to get played with. So lick it up, nice and good.”
Round two already. Brutus couldn't believe that he was now going to be drinking down Brian Knobb's sweaty, filthy, jizz and Jimmy Hart ass mixture like it was a regular drink. But what choice did he have? He had already come this far and he knew that he didn't want to spend the rest of his eternal life suffering in these ways. He knew that he had to find the strength within him and that he had to continue going on.
Brutus did what he had to. He rushed over and placed his mouth firmly against Jimmy Hart's asshole. With his lips and nose pressed as deeply as he could, Jimmy Hart spread his legs slightly and let Knobb's jizz leak out into the mouth of Brutus the Beefcake. Brutus began to slightly choke and gag as the flavor was extremely rank and bitter. He coughed loudly for another minute or two before slowly regaining his composure.
“Ooh baby, how'd that taste Eddie? I bet it was disgusting! Baby, I'm not done over here yet … you better get back to licking my ass. It still needs some lovin!”.
Brutus thought to himself, he has to finish this guy off quickly. He quickly returned his tongue to Jimmy Hart's asshole as he began to furiously lick at it. A light bulb moment occurred when Brutus remembered that his hands were still free. He decided that he would reach around while he continued licking Hart's backside. He grasped and finally found Hart's penis – and then he began to tug and twist at it. He ran his hands up and down... while simultaneously rimming Hart's posterior. And he was correct, Jimmy Hart couldn't take much more of this. After a few more minutes, Jimmy Hart finally exploded all over the hands of Brutus the Beefcake.
Hart then exclaimed, “Baby, Beefy – look how sticky your hands got. Oooh baby. There's only one more thing I want you to do, lick it up. Taste all of my southern juices.”
Brutus did as he was ordered. He took his hand and placed it in his mouth. He made sure to lick every drop of Jimmy Hart's cum off of his digits. As he gulped down the last few remaining drops, he looked over at Jimmy and saw him vanish into ashes.
There was no time to comprehend what had just occurred. Brutus looked over and he was once again standing in front of the Devil. The Devil had a huge grin on his face and he began to speak:
“You've completed two of the three tasks set in front of you. But, can you truly handle this last one? After all – it's the one with the highest stakes. No matter what happens in this next sexual encounter – one of you is going to remain in Hell. One of you will have to remain here for the rest of eternity... can you handle that?”
Beefcake again looked at the Devil blankly. He wasn't sure how to respond and he wasn't sure how the Devil was going to decide who to keep in Hell. He timidly asked the Devil, “So what are the rules then? How are you going to decide who to keep in Hell? I thought.. you said that as long as I performed these tasks I would get to go to Purgatory … god damn it, you are trying to pull a quick one on me, aren't you?”
Satan refused to answer that part of the question. “Brutus, you will be going head to head with an opponent of my choice.. in a masturbation contest. I will then decide the winner based on my own criteria.. and from there, the loser will remain in Hell. It's rather simple.”
“So, I've given a blow job to Howard Finkel, I've watched Brian Knobbs and Jimmy Hart have sex, and I've given a rim job to Hart also... and now all I have to do is masturbate? That seems like I'm getting off easily here..”
“Maybe you are.. and maybe your opponent has something on you.” - Satan responds.
“Well then – who the FUCK is my opponent?” - Beefcake demands to know.
Without delay, Hulk Hogan's music can be heard. Hogan then appears in his usually cocky manner, strutting along as his theme song blares throughout Hell. Beefcake looks over at his best friend and simply sighs. He begins to panic as he realizes that either him or Hulk is going to be spending the rest of their life in hell. And hell, what were the rules of this masturbation contest going to be? All he knew is that he began to worry about being able to compete in any kind of contest against somebody with twenty-four inch pythons.
“Hey there brotha, looks like we uh.. got a nice competition here. And you better believe that the Hulkster doesn't want to spend the rest of his life here. So whatcha gonna do brotha when the Hulkamaniac strokes better than you”
“Let's just get this fucking thing over with Hogan. It's already been a long fucking day and I'll be damned if I'm spending the rest of my life in this god forsaken place. If I have to jerk off faster than you do, or cum more than you do or whatever the fucking rules are, I'm going to do it. I'm fucking done with these demons and everything in this fucking place. These flames are god damn ridiculous.” - The Beefcake responds.
Both men immediately dropped their pants and started jerking off as the Devil watched them with a huge grin on his face. It seemed like both Brutus the Barber and Hogan were trying to outdo each other, and were going back and forth trying to match the pace set by the other man. There was little finesse in this whole ordeal, no – it was purely carnal. Both men furiously masturbating and trying to get off as quickly as possible. And meanwhile.. Satan just continued to laugh.
Ten minutes had passed and both men were pounding away. Their muscles began growing tense and the sweat poured down their faces. Their faces were flush and bright red. Hogan began to yell out - “Oh god, brotha, I'm about to blow OOH whatcha gonna do?”
Satan looked at Hogan, pensively.
Beefcake continued to ramp up the speed of his strokes. “OH NO you don't Hogan, I'm going to be the first one to come. Oh yes I am.”
“Brotha, don't fucking kid yoursel-”
Both men groaned out in pleasure as they both unleashed their loads simultaneously. Their seeds spilling onto the ground right in front of the Devil. He merely looked at the two men as they collapsed to the ground, panting for their breath. Satan remained silent.
Finally, Beefcake found the courage to look straight at the Devil. “Satan, who won the masturbation contest? I mean – I'd like to know and I'd like to know right fucking now. Stop making us wait on everything.”
“You did, Edward. All you had to do was complete the task.. and besides, did you really think that I was ever going to let Hogan escape from Hell. After everything that Hogan has done and everything that Hogan has said. This is where he deserves to be now and for the rest of time. And if you thought what we put you through was torturous, just know that we have far far worse planned for Hogan. There is a long long line of people just waiting to torture Hulk. But, are you ready to leave here now?”
“Fuck yes, I am” - Brutus responds.
Suddenly, Brutus the Barber Beefcake was lifted once again to the spot in the sky that he had originally met St. Peter at. He briefly thought about his friend Hulk Hogan and was slightly sad, before he finally smiled and realized that it was better Hogan than him. He began to speak loudly to no one in particular - “So this is Purgatory, it's nothing. Nothing. There's nothing here, there's nobody here, and this is how I will spend the rest of my life. In silence.”