Your Photo on the Wall

You won just a single match before getting eliminated... Pathetic. Your second-eldest brother, Simon, walks with you to the gym.

"You couldn't even get past round two? I mean, the wrestler is a big guy, but why didn't you just work around him?" Simon asks as the two of you stroll into the locker room. Simon has asked you how you lost, but you haven't had the heart to tell him.

The second you two enter the locker room, he walks with you to the photos on the wall. There are a couple there, and yours is one of them. Simon's jaw drops in disbelief at the sight of you hanging over the ropes in a headlock with your naked ass and ball sack obscenely displayed to the camera.

"Lost by humiliation. Are you fucking kidding me, Riley? We've taught you better than to end up like that!" He scolds you, pointing to the image. You **** yourself to look at it.

"I thought I could-" You begin.

"It doesn't matter what you THOUGHT. You THOUGHT wrong! Know what Ward thought? He thought he could win by showing your bare nuts to everybody. HE thought right."

There are other fighters in the locker room who are wincing at the tongue-lashing that you're receiving, but you know that you deserve it. You fought like a moron. Not like a champion.

"Is Ward here? HEY, WARD?" Simon calls out, and to your horror, Ward is present. He approaches you both, dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist. "Hey, Simon Walker! A former champ, right? Sorry about your baby brother. You know how it is."

Simon glares at you, and then glances back to Ward. "I just wanted to congratulate you on your victory. I'm always happy to see the better man win. But I'll admit that I'm not as happy to see my little brother's balls on the photo wall."

Ward shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, man! That's how it had to be!"

Simon nods. "Oh, I agree. And since my little brother here is still making excuses, it seems he needs to be taught a thing or two about consequences. Take off your clothes, Riley."

You're stunned. Why is Simon doing this? He repeats his command, and you reluctantly obey. Tanktop, shoes, socks, shorts, and jockstrap are all piled on the floor. You stand in front of Simon and Ward and bashfully cup your hands over your penis.

"You conquered my little brother, so I'm giving you some authority over him." Simon explains, smacking you on the butt. "Give him a penalty. Help him learn the price of losing."

Ward thinks about it for a second. He looks you over up and down, and your cheeks burn in humiliation as the other fighters look on.

"We'll keep it simple." Ward decides. "Surrender your jockstrap to me."

The others who are watching widen their eyes. Even Simon does. A fighter's jock is the symbol of his manhood. To surrender yours to Ward is to abandon dignity entirely. You look to Simon. "He can't be serious! Simon, I don't wanna do this!" You plead.

Simon realizes he may have made a mistake. By giving Ward ownership over his brother's jockstrap, he is severely wounding the family legacy. But, the offer was already made. He heaves a sigh. "Do it."

Your heart sinks. The fighters gather 'round to watch this, as it doesn't happen often.

You slowly sink to your knees, and take your discarded jock in your hands. Looking up at the expectant Ward, you slowly offer up your jockstrap to him. "I surrender my manhood." You've only even heard these words once, and hearing them causes the surrounding fighters to flinch. It's one of few defeats that one can never come back from. Your career as a fighter is over.

Ward accepts your jockstrap, and those watching shake their heads in anguish and disgust.

"One of the mighty Walker boys, here on his knees in front of me... And I own his jockies. But don't worry. I'll let you say goodbye!"

Ward seizes the back of your head, and shoves your face into the pouch of your jockstrap. Your muffled cries of indignation are stifled as the scent of your own masculinity overwhelms you. Simon tries to spring into action to stop Ward, but he's held back by other fighters. You're trying to pry his hand and your jock off your face, but his strength far outclasses your own.

Eventually... Your struggling ceases. Your arms fall limp at your sides. Ward grins. "Take a deep sniff, loser. You're mine."

You slowly and deeply inhale the scent of defeat through your nose. You will never wrestle again. Ward has made sure of it.