I'll accept Hurricail's drilling. It's not a sex thing! Right?!

Detective's intuition can be a funny thing some times. Even as the alarm bells went off inside my head, telling me to be suspicious of the over-sized lady wrestler, my adventuresome sense of curiosity told me to go inside and pump her for information. At some point, my misfiring instincts were going to need a reminder that this crazy life of mine isn't like the detective novels I read... Sherlock Holmes doesn't find himself in booty shorts, wrestling muscle-women. Our situations simply aren't comparable.

"If it seems as if I am being too rough on you in these drills, please, tell me. However, know that Makiu will be that much rougher. The more you can handle here, the better off you'll be later on," Hurricail began. I gulped. Makiu looked like the less aggressive of the two, judging by their body types, but apparently it was the other way around. That said, I had no intention of wrestling either of them... I wanted to shut this case before the time for the match came! It would be a shame for Princess and the Heavy Storms to have to reschedule, but not as much of a shame as it would be for someone to have to clean the smudge formerly known as Katsumi Hojo off of the mat, if I did end up competing. "Selling is the first step. Do you know about selling?"

I shook my head; wrestling lingo was beyond me.

Hurricail gave a low whistle, then pressed one hand to her forehead. "Hoo, boy. We had better start cramming. Listen: a sell is when you make your opponent's attack look like it connected. It means acting hurt or winded. Basically, you flinch away or fall from strikes. With submissions, you groan with pain and gnash your teeth! With throws, you try to land on the safe parts of your body, while flipping from the mat when necessary to convey extra movement. For now, let's try practicing a submission hold... If you're making the hot tag to Princess, you may find yourself in a lot of these."

I nodded, wondering just how quickly I'd attempt to tap out of that hold. It could be a new world record. The woman's shadow fell over me as she approached me from behind.

"Remember that selling is one of the most important things you can do. If you do not sell for your opponent, they'll make you sell for them by going at you for real. That's called 'a shoot.' You don't want that..."

I agreed and inwardly vowed to make Hurricail's fake submission hold look like she was sending me straight to the grave.

There was nothing more I knew to do to prepare... I just sat there, trembling like a leaf, as the huge woman loomed over me and spread both arms. Next, I found both arms embracing me as though for a hug, clenching the hands around my belly... It felt as though she could probably wrap my whole waist in just one of her arms. With her fists clutched there, it looked an awful lot like I was about to get a German suplex-- I didn't know what that was at the time, but I'd come to know shortly after this encounter. Nervously, I watched her hands, wondering what type of squeeze she was going to apply...

My eyes widened as her hands, still clutched so that an "O" shaped hole was made in them, moved down further... and further... and finally, she put her hands into my pants! I protested wildly, feeling taken advantage of as the woman first attempted to grip my penis with both hands, then decided on just one... I didn't have the length for two. There was no way this was a real wrestling hold, right?!

"Desperado #2, you do know how the face and heel dynamics work, right? And how this bout is set up?"

I asked: it's a tag championship bout, right?! Doesn't that mean bringing glory and honor to the titles, or some other such promotional nonsense?

"Futanari are popular in wrestling these days," Hurricail continued, now beginning to tug at my length as she spoke, "but there is a reason so many people show up to these events... and why they have to be held after dark. Targeting the groin has always been a heel tactic, right? In **** rules matches between futanari like ourselves, it is very popular to use this form of targeting. Making an opponent submit for real this way would not be impossible."

I agreed, but also, I vehemently objected! I could see the woman's fist bulging out against my pants, stretching them far further than my penis could ever manage to as she jacked me off with just a few fingers. I was pretty lucky that they had such elasticity. W-Was she really going to use a technique that would make me cum in front of all of those people?!

"Oh, absolutely. We even have a tag version. That's called 'The Rain Shower.' It's quite a sight! We're hoping to use it on the Princess tonight... That'd be a real feather in our caps, as a heel tag team!"

I didn't care about tonight! I cared about the fact that I was hard as a rock... a rock that's being roughly polished against its will! At this rate, I'd cum right here in the dressing room; the ring wouldn't even enter into it. The woman's hand felt warm and absurdly huge, encompassing both my shaft and my balls in just one grip. I felt as if she could rip it off with her bare strength if she wanted to... the knowledge that she could, but instead simply chose to stroke it, made it that much more erotic! I wanted to fall to my knees to escape. In fact, I tried to.

The woman grabbed my shorts with her free hand and chuckled; when I tried to let my knees buckle, all I managed was to give myself an **** wedgie! "That's not a bad idea on how to escape, however, you need more strength to use a maneuver like that. You'd be better off attacking my groin as a counter."

I wasn't going to just go around attacking groins! Although, I might reconsider it if this harassment disguised as a wrestling drill continued. N-not that it didn't feel good... actually, I could feel my precum beginning to leak out and coat the other woman's hand. Out loud, I cursed Desperado #1 for allowing herself to get injured and putting me in this position!

"Say... what kind of injury did Desperado #1 receive, anyway?" Hurricail asked, leaning over my shoulder and smiling into my face as she relentlessly jacked me off.

I didn't know! I repeated that over and over again, as if I was a hostage pleading with their captor. Hm. Now that I use my detective brain for a minute, that's a pretty good question. It might even be possible for me to go make a call to the hospital and find out! Thanks for the suggestion, Hurricail!

Now can you please stop squeezing my dick!?

"He he... I don't think our instruction is over just yet. Do people ever tell you that you have the kind of cute reactions that make you fun to bully?" the heel wrestler asked grinning as she increased the speed of her stroking.

Lately they do! Powerless to stop myself, I clenched my teeth, feeling my eyes squinting shut with embarrassment behind my glasses as I began to release a load of semen out into the other girl's huge palm. Some futanari are proud of their ability to produce, but I had no desire to, at least not at this moment! I was going to ruin my shorts before the match! My hips shuddered as I felt more and more of the stuff coming out, making a mess against the soft surface of Hurricail's hand.

To my surprise, the shorts came away clean. If this was a porn, she'd probably lick the cum off her hand; it had all been caught there, dripping in strings from her grip. Instead, she simply pulled her hand away and began to wipe it with a disposable towel... some part of that was a bit disappointing to me as a sexually functional futanari, though I supposed I should be happy for her professionalism. Like a kind attendant, she tore off a small sheet and stuffed it into my shorts, to prevent me from dripping on them any further. "The Princess won't go easy on you if you let yourself get carried away like that during a match. You'll have to find a way to break it; especially if you want to avoid giving the crowd a 'Rain Shower.'"

I asked the lady frankly: was she saying that the "Rain Shower" is a move that forces me to shoot my semen out onto the crowd? Would anyone actually pay for that?

"Yes."

... I felt something fall inside my stomach, like a great weight had been added, even more intense than my previous nervousness at being physically destroyed in front of a live audience. In my mind, a picture of Genkei, sitting on the front row with a sleazy smile and somehow enjoying a cum-bath as I was **** to shoot onto him. It was the most sickening picture I could possibly conceive of. It was a future I must not allow to come to pass.

Groaning, I managed to squeak out a "thank you" for Hurricail's tutelage so far, but I told her there were other things I needed to take care of before the match. Understanding, she gave me another big, friendly smile, one that didn't fit the way she'd just heelishly captured me and then whacked me off. She waved goodbye while I stumbled out of the room. My knees were knocking together and I still had that post-fap dizziness... But I had to shake it off! There was a call I had to make and quick... or else, I risked losing any kind of framing device for this as a detective investigation, rather than a series of erotic humiliation scenes at the hands of various wrestlers!